Battle Royale: World Series
by anyankafan
Summary: An Australian ninth grade class are placed into the inaugural Australian Battle Royale, a battle to the death in which only one student will survive...with a personal touch at the end. I don't own BR, Takami does Features extreme violence language themes
1. Hours 0 and 1

Battle Royale, a decade ago would've been inconceivable anywhere but Japan. The whole concept was spat at by the modern world. The UN came incredibly close to intervening in Japan's affairs.

However, over the next ten years, the world went through a rapid series of developments that changed the face of government irrevocably. Riots on an unprecedented scale exploded around the globe, as Western governments did their best to solidify their strangle-hold on their citizens. Dictatorships sprang up in formally peaceful democracies. These new tyrant leaders tried every measure they could think of to crush insurgents and rebels, but found it far more difficult than they expected. High profile leaders in France, the US and the UK were assassinated, leading to, among other things, the creation of a 'secret' police-force in most developed worlds. The right to free speech was all but stripped away, and protestors were executed without mercy. The disaster in Tiananmen Square paled in comparison to the massacres that took place at the turn of the millennium.

It was the US that found the way out of the anarchy that was about to befall the world. Taking a leaf out of Japan's book, the reigning President instituted a national Battle Royale. Within two months, the country was under control, and a calm peace was established.

The UK imitated their cross-Atlantic neighbours, and soon Battle Royale's were common occurrence in France, China, Germany and Canada as well. Each country experienced an amazing drop in organized resistance that could only be attributed to the BR Program. The public no longer trusted each other enough to even contemplate banding together to rally against the government.

Though it had faced little of what other nations had experienced during the 'Dark Years' as they had come to be known, Australia began its own Battle Royale run, just in time to take part in a grandiose event that had been being planned since Canada joined the BR brotherhood.

The eight countries would hold their Battle Royale as usual, but upon a winner emerging, they would immediately be entered into the greatest spectacle of slaughter yet seen on earth, broadcast live throughout the world.

The Australian segment of the competition began on July 24, 2005.

**バトル ロワイアル**

**ホヮルド シーリズ**

**©Hour 0: 42 remaining: Noon **

"WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON!"

"Where are we?"

"What the fuck?!"

Suddenly the darkness that surrounded the forty-two teenagers turned to light, as several fluorescent lights flickered into life.

Adjusting to the sudden, harsh brightness, the class took in their strange surroundings. The room itself was quite big, enough to fit the forty-two of them in easily. Along the left side of it ran a series of windows, each almost as big as the wall, but these had been boarded up with black wood. All that the students could tell from them was that it was still daylight outside.

The room looked like it had been stripped bare, but there were still a few odds and ends that allowed the group to identify it as a classroom. Up the front was a blackboard, which was cracked and its age was easily distinguished by its many blurred chalk-marks, undoubtedly from decades of use. To the left of the board was a television set. It seemed brand new, and when compared to the rest of the room, it looked distinctly out of place.

The only other thing in the room was an old music stand, where a teacher had probably once taught a class, much like their own.

Everyone fell quiet. It was disturbing. Had they not been happily anticipating their annual school trip? Had they not been bouncing with excitement in their bus seats as the vehicle pulled out of town?

Looking around at the others, Georgina Walsh noticed something about them. There was something out of place.

They were all dressed in their uniforms (white shirts, black tie and pants for the boys, white shirts, short red tie and plaid kilt, in both long and short styles for the girls, coupled with black and red blazers for all) as they were before the un-explained unconsciousness, and no one seemed hurt. Finally, it dawned on her.

Speaking up she said, "What the hell are these things around our necks?"

Everyone gasped, and in unison reached up to their throats, where they found cold, metallic, for-lack-of-a-better-word collars. Looking around at those worn by the others, they saw a silver band running around the whole of their necks, connecting in back. Around the front was a small black screen, and a tiny un-lit light.

Georgina couldn't believe it, "What are they?" She said again, "Does anyone have any idea what they are or what the hell's going on?"

Across the room, in the furthest corner, a glasses-wearing, braces-sporting boy named Sam knew exactly what was going on, and he knew others did too. Not everyone, obviously, but some.

Looking around, Sam took in all his classmates.

Up the front was the guy group. If any social clique in the school could be labelled bad, it was them, but they were hardly worth it. Stu McGuckian, a tall, beefy guy was investigating the room's only door, a huge black metal thing. Flanking him was Kris Haintz, and David Border. Those two were pals, through and through, almost inseparable, and they were always clowning about in class. Next to them was the last two of the group, Oliver Cross and Darren Salem. Oliver was a pretty nice guy, occasionally capable of disgustingly misogynist and sexist statements, but still a good person. Darren on the other hand was much worse. Truly the only bad element in the group (which naturally made him its leader) Darren was known for hating almost every race on the face of the planet bar his own. He especially despised Jewish people, even though he'd only met one in his life-time. He was also notorious for his violent homophobia, something the two boys sitting a few metres ahead of Sam knew only too well.

Stefan Trent and Calin Granger had been out and dating since the eighth grade. The two were never ones to be shy or coy about their relationship, and could often be found making out in janitor's closets. Stefan was quite straight-acting, but Calin was the most flamboyant queen in town. Flouncing about in short-shorts and a pink boa on free dress days, Calin had often been targeted by Darren and his gang. More often than not they'd just call him a 'fag' a couple hundred times and punch him in the stomach. But once Darren had become so enraged by Calin's sexuality he'd dangled him over the edge of a twenty-foot high bridge, only pulling him up when a passer-by had threatened to call the police.

Despite this, Calin never toned down his inherent gayness, which was one reason Sam had made such good friends with the both of them.

Sam's gaze shifted from those two over to the gaggle of girls that sat in the middle of this strange room. These were the nice girls. Truly, every one of them was a fantastic girl, despite their many failings.

There was Zoe Creelman, a born-leader, she was never afraid of voicing her opinion or morals, and always happy to lend a hand. Her right-hand girl was Meghan McDonough, who just as much a chief as Zoe. Also present was Chloe Lanyon, Rachael Ward, Melanie Stuart and Georgina. Chloe was a tiny, tiny thing, flame-red hair and a timid nature. Rachael was wacky, and bounced off the walls and ceiling at any given moment. Melanie was another red-head. Often found with her nose in a book, Melanie had sadly been the butt of much name calling from most, especially those in positions of 'popularity'.

Further up the back was the second group of girls. While they were still nice girls, they were most often the ones to be found having a bitch-attack. Their group's unofficial leader, to an outsider, would have been a shock. Short and chubby (festively plump, as her mother called it), Alexandra Kingsley was no physical prize. She'd only been at the school for two months, but already she was commanding the group. The group's comic was Sarah Keck, an itty bitty imp who often garnered enormous laughs with single word sentences. The mascot for the group, who could often be seen flitting about in other social circles, was Melissa Kelly, yet another red-head. Next, was Thirapat "June" Santa-Annop, a student from Thailand, who had come to Australia seeking to improve her English, which was already better than her Thai. The last two that made up this sextet was Jessica Cunningham and Madeline Gillard. These two did not get along. Often arguing at the top of their lungs, throwing insults that mostly consisted of calling the other a slut, they always had to be kept separate from each other.

Sam's eyes travelled back down to the front, where the last group of girls sat. These were the 'popular' girls, the ones seen to be the prettiest and the best. In charge of this squad was Elle Kirk-Patrick, who undoubtedly had the best reason to _be _incharge. She was sassy, sexy and always ready for anything, Elle was a natural leader. Her second in command was Felicity Jones. Ditzy and blonde were the best words to describe her. Although a great athlete, Felicity didn't appear to have much going in the brains department, and was really just eye-candy to almost everyone, but she still wielded a lot of power in the school hierarchy. Next in the chain of command was Alana Woodward, who definitely the most athletic and sports-oriented of the bunch. She still had a definite visual appeal, but she didn't spend anywhere near as much time in front of the mirror as the other girls did. Coming in behind her was Tess Moller. Tess, though she might not be the smartest tool in the shed, held a lot of sway with the group. She was the one who pointed them in more charitable directions. It was her idea that they chair the Year Nine Dance committee.

Last on the list is Veronica Maclay, definitely the most unlike able of them all. While still drop-dead gorgeous with her silky black hair, cut short above her shoulders, and big eyes, Veronica was just too much of a rumour-spreader and general idiot for anyone to _really_ like her. Even Elle could see this, but she was kept around merely so their circle was bigger.

While often doing good things for the school community, this was the group that screwed with the more unpopular kid's lives. Often known for spreading salacious rumours about certain people, these girls were not to be messed with.

The next group to slide into Sam's view was the mixed group, the gang that anyone could be a part of. Most of them though, were boys, particularly athletic boys, jocks if you may. Jack Frantz, though exceedingly short, was seen as the top guy, and no wonder given his history with leadership roles. His pal Tom Brady was less of a leader and more of a clown, a sporty clown at that. But in comparison to Nick Locandro's athleticism, Tom was almost laugh-worthy. Participating in almost every sport in the school's extra-curricular program, Nick was definitely at a top physical condition. Angel Summers, resident hunk, came close in terms of fitness, but beat him easily in terms of muscle. Angel was most certainly the buffest of them all, and it had helped in Angel's latest conquest, Felicity Jones.

Oddly enough, this was the place that Emma Philips had slipped into. Tall and strong, Emma wasn't the sportiest girl in the world, although she was no girly girl. She spent a lot of the time outside though, working with machines and the like.

Nearby, to Sam's right, sat _his_ circle. His best friend, Anthony, was doing his best to comfort his tiny girlfriend, Rebecca. They'd been dating a while, and out of all the couples in the room, they were the tightest, and most likely to go on and on. They were looking into each other's eyes with love, and to an outsider it would've looked incredibly romantic. But to Jonathon Hill, who was seated behind them, it was gross! From behind them, and without their knowing, he was pulling over-exaggerated faces of disgust, much to Calin and Stefan's amusement.

Finally, Sam took in the last students of his class. There was Ben Corden-McKinley and Alexander Caine, who'd been stuck as friends since primary school. There was Sophia Crouch and Stephanie Weaver, who'd been boisterous, rambunctious and supremely likeable together since kindergarten. There was Gavin Hawkins, who, despite everyone considering him 'pretty cool', had never slipped into one particular group, always preferring to float between them. Also there was Andrew McCallum, the biggest stoner ever to hit the school.

The last two Sam noticed were definitely the dregs of high school society. Dan Darke and Francis Ford. Dan was the complete stereo-typical nerd. Huge glasses, suspenders and a calculator of all things, Dan was just _begging _to be tormented his whole pubescent life.

And Francis Ford, well, there was an insane bible-basher if there ever was one. Known to shout damnation from street-corners, Francis was unbeatably the most hated kid in school. The entire Year Nine student body had once turned on him when he'd put up posters that read "God's giving you AIDS mother-fuckers" and sent death threats to Calin and Stefan.

As Sam stared at his classmates…one thought ran through his mind…

_We're all going to die… _

Anthony, Bec and Jonathon slid along the ground to Sam's corner, each of them with the same fearful look as the other. Sam knew that they knew what was happening. They'd talked about what was coming quite often.

Over in Zoe's group, Sam could tell Meghan knew as well. A few others in the class had that utterly terrified look about them as well, but most were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

Georgina stood up and away from her friends, heading over to where Stu was still trying to force the door open.

"Can't you get it open?" She asked, tentatively.

Stu hissed and kicked at the metal, "No, this thing's heavier than fucking Magda Szubanski."

"Who's Magda Szubanski?" Kris and Dave asked, puzzled.

A whirring and a thump suddenly came from the other side of the door. Stu jumped back, pushing Georgina away with him. The door began to grind open.

Worried moans came from almost everyone in the class, as they waited to see what was outside the room.

The door swung open. Everyone gasped.

"Hey kids!" Said a voice, an all too familiar voice.

"Muh-Miss Leech?!" Georgina cried, falling backwards onto her behind in shock.

"Yu-huh, it's me!" Leech said, smiling.

Miss Leech had been their teacher since the start of the year. Almost everyone liked her. She taught well, and she'd regularly organized days off for the class to just chill.

But what was she doing? And why was she grinning such an evil grin?

Stepping up to the music stand, Miss Leech surveyed her class. She could see they were terrified, and it made her glad.

"Hello, hello!" She said, "Did you enjoy your naps?"

"What's going on?" Zoe asked, standing up, trying to assert herself and take charge of the situation.

Leech merely laughed.

Zoe was infuriated, "Miss Leech, tell us _now _what's going on!"

Leech stopped laughing, "You'd better watch your tone, _especially _when speaking out of turn!" Her eyes narrowed. A gasp rippled throughout the room. Leech never talked that.

Zoe was stunned, and flumped back down to the floor.

"Now, Class." Leech said, addressing the entire group, "I'm happy to announce that you, Class C of Ballarat & Clarendon College, my class, has been chosen for the first Australian Battle Royale."

Sam's heart sank. He'd been right.

"Well, it's not really the first _ever_, but the first _official_ one." Leech said, off-handed, "But that's beside the point!"

Zoe hadn't given up. Her hand flew into the air and shook vigorously, "MISS LEECH!"

Leech sighed and nodded, "Go ahead."

"What on earth is Battle Royale?"

Leech giggled, "I'm surprised so many of you don't know. I mean, considering how important it is, so many of you are so ignorant!" Leech continued, "Well, for the un-informed, Battle Royale is a state-sanctioned exercise. A class is selected out of the thousands across the country, and taken to an undisclosed location, this one being an island off the coast of Queensland."

"But what _is _it!" Zoe said, "Why are we here?!"

Leech spat, "I'm getting to that!" She swore underneath her breath, "Anyway, Battle Royale was originally instituted in Japan, soon after the Second World War, as a means of controlling population and allowing the country's dictatorship to gain total control. However, ours is a little different. Ours isn't for populous control, we're using it for pure fear. This single event will show to the citizens of this country just how far the government will go to control them, and especially you kids. You're all just a bunch of hormonal time-bombs waiting to go off and destroy this great country."

"Man, she is so under the government's thumb," Anthony whispered in Sam's ear.

"SSh!" Sam hissed. Anthony was surprised. Sam had never told him to 'sh' before. Looking at him, Anthony was shocked to see he was staring with the most serious face he'd ever had.

Jack held up his hand, and Leech pointed to him, "So," He said, "This is a way for the government to…scare everyone straight?"

Leech whooped with joy, "Bingo, right on the money!"

"But," He pressed on, "How? What _is _it?"

Leech whooped again, "Oh, this is the fun part!" She yanked a cord that dangled in front of the black board, and a large map fell down. It showed a v-shaped island rotated so the point was pointing out the right, divided into a series of grids.

"This is the island." She said. Pointing at an x in the middle she added, "You are here on this map. Now, soon, once the clock hits one pm, I'm going to start letting you out, one minute apart. And you're going to start playing this game."

Jack was about to ask "what is this game", but before he could, Miss Leech said, "The game is simple. You kill each other off, until there's only one left."

Almost every girl screamed.

"NO!" Georgina screamed, stumbling up to her feet, "That can't be right! How is that going to help?!"

"Like this," Miss Leech said, sighing.

Reaching around, she pulled something silvery and metallic out from her back pocket.

Georgina stared at it, her eyes widening as she realized what it was.

In a flash Miss Leech had pulled the gun's trigger. The bullet rocketed forward, ploughing through Georgina's left cheek and out through the back of her head.

Her blood splattered the floor behind her, as she made a few, desperate attempts at speech. Her eyes stared at Miss Leech, stunned by the sudden, enormous pain that had erupted in her face. But she could tell, somehow she could tell that this wasn't going to kill her, at least not now. She was still standing, she still had feeling.

Miss Leech frowned, noticing this too. She paused for a moment, holding the gun to her chest. After a quick thought about what to do, Leech pointed the gun again and fired once more.

This time the bullet struck on the tip of her jaw. The bone disintegrated, instantly ejecting shards of itself into the air. Her teeth collapsed inside her mouth, as the bullet ricocheted inside her head. Eventually it struck another bone and it changed direction, heading slightly down into her throat before stopping.

This time, there was no mistaking her fate. Her bottom jaw practically annihilated, blood coating her chest, Georgina slipped to the floor.

Everyone stared at her lifeless form for a few moments. No one made a sound, or a movement.

"See how it works? Now you know not to speak out of turn or else you'll be blown away! Soon, after our Battle Royale's been on a while, Australians will know not to fuck with the system!"

The class whimpered.

"Now, to explain things a little better, we have a video here, prepared special for you to watch." Leech bounded over to the TV and pushed a small black tape into the VCR. Pressing play, Leech stepped back and said, "Pay close attention now!"

The screen flickered to life, presenting to the class a young Japanese woman, in a skimpy orange boob tube and combat shorts

"Konnichiwa kids!" She cried, "You can call me Oneesan! I'm on-loan from Japan, and I'm here to tell you everything you need to know to make it through Battle Royale! And to do that, I'll need the help of someone you all know and love…" She took a deep breath, her grin getting bigger and bigger, before she practically screamed, "SKIPPY! The Bush Kangaroo!"

Sam sniggered. It was exactly the same Skippy from that crappy old show, complete with the paws attached to a stick that were waved across the screen.

"So, Skippy, you want to help me explain to these lucky kids what they're going to need?" Oneesan asked, bending down so her face was next to the 'kangaroo's'. The puppet nodded and 'hopped' over to a nearby bench, on which was a green back-pack.

"First thing you'll find, is three loaves of bread, a pack of rice crackers and two litres of water…Skippy, can you show these nice kids their food?" She asked, sweetly.

Skippy bounced twice and nodded comically and used his 'hands' to pull out the food Oneesan had described.

"Yay!" Oneesan squealed with glee, "Next in your pack, you'll find a map, a compass, a torch and a marker. The map is of the island you're on, and obviously the torch is to help you get around and night…Skippy if you could show them it'd be great!"

Skippy dug around in the pack, and, because of the incredibly bad puppeteer, only managed to get out the torch.

Over by the wall where she leaned, Miss Leech had her head in her hands, embarrassed. She was whispering, "That stupid fucking kangaroo…why…WHY the kangaroo?"

Sitting near her, Zoe couldn't stop staring at Georgina's dead body. Her face was a mess. The bullet had made such a hole that her left eye was now sitting on the floor in front of the corpse, staring at the ceiling.

Oneesan continued on the video, "And of course, you'll each be assigned a weapon! Not just guns and knives, no, some of you might get lucky, some might not. Some are luckier than others, but my personal favourite is this!" Having learned from the puppet disaster of Skippy, Oneesan pulled it out herself, brandishing it in front of her face, "The fire-axe…it's SUPER-LUCKY! Sadly, some of you will get unlucky weapons…like this!" She held up, of all things, a plain old kitchen fork.

"Now, when playing this game," Oneesan said, putting down the fork, "You'll need to keep track of time. Every six hours, at 12 pm and am, and 6 pm and am, your teacher will broadcast an update on who has died since the last report, and to warn you about which grid-zones on the island are going to become dangerous!" Oneesan giggled and picked up from the bench a collar, just like the ones the class were all fitted with.

"100 water-proof and shock-proof, these collars tell us whether you guys are alive or dead, and where you are at any given moment. And, if you enter a Danger-Zone once it's been activated, or you piss off your teacher, a signal will be sent. The collar will pick this signal up no matter where you are, and, once it has, the collar activates and…" Oneesan took in a deep breath, "IT EXPLODES!!"

Some of the class, most noticeably Calin, screamed, while the rest merely put a hand to their throats.

"Now be careful," Oneesan said, "You screw with the damn things too much and they'll blow, so you better watch what you do with them!" She laughed, "One more thing about them, if, after three days, we haven't found a winner, all the remaining collars will blow, and nobody wins, and that's a very bad thing, right Skippy!"

The puppet nodded, and jerked around. It appeared that the puppeteer was trying to make it dance, but all he succeeded in doing was make Skippy's head to fall off.

Oneesan's huge smile didn't fade, but the class could tell she was a little bit perturbed by the dead puppet. Not that they cared of course, there were more important things at the moment.

"So, that's all from me and…Skippy," Oneesan said, saluting, "So I say, fight to make your country proud. Life's a game, fight to see if you're worth it!"

The screen turned black, as the tape ended.

Heading back up to the music stand, Miss Leech sighed, "Now, even I knew that was lame," She said.

"Miss Leech…" Felicity had said, raising her hand cautiously.

"Yes?" Leech asked.

"Um…you said that this isn't the first…Buh…Battle Royale. You mean there have been others? How come I haven't heard of it?"

Leech laughed, saying, "See, now, that's where all the people behind Battle Royale were shocked. I mean, you'd think everyone would know, considering how 'unconstitutional' it is. You'd think that there'd have been more about it? Protests and the like? But…it seems like proof that society has definitely gone down the drain when people seem to care more about two American actors getting a divorce than forty-two of their own students slaughtering each other."

Felicity sat back down, crying.

"Anymore questions?" Miss Leech asked the rest of the class.

"Yes!" Maddy said, lifting a hand and standing before Leech had said she could, an action which caused her classmates to gasp, thinking she'd soon be following Georgina to the grave. Maddy ignored this and said, "You actually expect us to kill our friends?"

Miss Leech narrowed her eyes in contempt, and said, quite pompously, "You're lucky I don't kill you now, Maddy, for your lack of respect. But that's for your 'friends' to do."

Turning away from her, Leech said, "Well, with questions out of the way, let's get this thing underway."

**THE GAME BEGINS **

**Hour 1 **

**01:00 pm **

**41 Remain **

"You'll be leaving in a completely randomized order, going girl-boy, girl-boy. There's really no system to how you leave, I'll just be choosing your name out of these bowls." Leech said, pointing at two small glass bowls, one that said 'boys', and one that said 'girls'.

"Now, as soon as you leave through that metal door, you'll find a rack with those packs on them. Take one, and get out of dodge post haste. Run down the corridor, and you'll find yourself outside and officially in the Battle Royale."

"Understand?" She asked.

Everyone nodded.

"Good, now get it through your heads. Only one of you is going to make it out of this. Just do your best to make sure that that one is you. As soon as you step foot outside that door, you're in the game. No one will protect you…so you've got to protect yourself."

A silence followed these words.

"Remember, you're only being let out one minute apart, that's not much time. Run as fast as you can, because who knows, the person who comes out behind you might just try to slit your throat!"

"Starting now…" Leech said, jamming her hand into the girls bowl. Pulling a scrap of paper out, Leech read out…

"Girl #1 is…Meghan McDonough. Come on Meghan…run!"

Whimpering, Meghan got up and stumbled out the door, grabbing a pack and leaving the room. Reaching the outside, Meghan shielded her eyes from the sun, before catching sight of the building she'd been in. It looked like some kind of warped bunker. From the outside it was blackened, like something had burned it, but the corridor had been brand new. There must have been a fire or something, and been done up later, as the arrival site for the Battle Royale.

Back inside, Leech read the first boy name.

"Boy #1 is…Sam Langsford, out you go Sammy boy!"

Sam gulped, got up, and charged at the door, leaping over Georgina's corpse and out into the hall. He grabbed the first pack he could get his hands on and bolted, heading straight for the trees that waited for him outside. He didn't even look back to see what the building he'd come from looked like.

Rebecca was next. She kissed Anthony good-bye and jogged outside, taking a pack. Once she was out the door, she spotted Meghan, standing in a bank of bushes twenty meters away. She ran over to her and hugged her. But before she could do anything, Meghan had grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the forest, and begun to drag her away from the bunker they'd left, crying "We gotta get out of here" despite Bec's protests.

The list of names continued. Amazingly, Anthony was the next boy, but to his dismay, Bec wasn't waiting for him.

"Boy #3, Jonathon."

Jonathon ran outside, and, doing what he hoped no one else would do, ran around the edge of the bunker and headed north, in the opposite direction everyone else had.

Soon, the bunker was empty, and the final class list ended up like this:

Girls:

Girl #1: Meghan McDonough- hunting knife

Girl #2: Rebecca Edwards- frying pan

Girl #3: Stephanie Weaver- UZI

Girl #4: Melanie Stuart- Nunchaku

Girl #5: Tess Moller- Katana

Girl #6: Alana Woodward- Hatchet

Girl #7: Melissa Kelly- Desert Eagle

Girl #8: Zoe Creelman- MAC-10

Girl #9: Rachael Ward- Ice-pick

Girl #10: Georgina Walsh- Cyanide

Girl #11: Chloe Lanyon- Two by Four

Girl #12: Sophia Crouch- Machete

Girl #13: Sarah Keck- Glock Machine-pistol

Girl #14: Madeline Gillard- Shovel

Girl #15: Jessica Cunningham- Megaphone

Girl #16: Alexandra Kingsley- SPAS-12

Girl #17: June Santa-Annop- Sai

Girl #18: Felicity Jones- Crossbow

Girl #19: Emma Phillips- Sawn-off Shotgun

Girl #20: Veronica Maclay- Sniper Rifle

Girl #21: Elle Kirk-Patrick- Tazer

Boys:

Boy #1: Sam Langsford- fork

Boy #2: Anthony Heath- Colt .45

Boy #3: Jonathon Hill- Nail-gun

Boy #4: David Border- Kama

Boy #5: Kristofer Haintz- AK-47

Boy #6: Jack Frantz- Stake

Boy #7: Tom Brady- Fire-axe

Boy #8: Nick Locandro- Chainsaw

Boy #9: Ben Corden-McKinley- Steak Knife

Boy #10: Alexander Caine- Smith & Wesson Revolver

Boy #11: Oliver Cross- Police Baton

Boy #12: Gavin Hawkins- Heckler & Kosch MP5

Boy #13: Stefan Trent- Pick-axe

Boy #14: Calin Granger- Ballpoint Pen

Boy #15: Darren Salem- Screwdriver

Boy #16: Stu McGuckian- Walther P22

Boy #17: Ian Redfield- Hand Grenades

Boy #18: Dan Darke- Crowbar

Boy #19: Andrew McCallum- Switch-blade

Boy #20: Angel Summers- Molotov Cocktails

Boy #21: Francis Ford- GPS Locator

Leech laughed to herself.

"Little shits are going to kill each other…that's just what they deserve!"

Turning, she walked out the same door the kids had. But instead of heading down the corridor, she shoved the rack the BR bags had been hanging on away from the wall, and pressed forward on a small black square. It depressed, and for a moment nothing happened, until the wall itself begun to slide open.

Walking into the BR command centre, Leech laughed again.

In every Battle Royale she'd read about, someone had tried to blow up BR headquarters. To counter this, most BR's had a permanent danger-zone put up immediately after the last child left. However, on one recent occasion in Japan and a few other times in Europe, this danger-zone had, to put it lightly, stuffed up. It was activated too early, and had lead to the deaths of all the class' students before the game had even begun.

As a precaution so that never happened again, the Australian BR Committee had decided to keep the headquarters hidden, so the students didn't even know it was there. Even if they returned to the bunker, all they'd find was an empty room.

Miss Leech pulled her microphone closer and tapped on it once. The sound of this reverberated across the island, and every student stopped to listen.

"So this is it boys and girls," She said, "Battle Royale. The game has begun. An hour in, and already we've lost Girl #10, Georgina, but don't worry, There're still 41 students out there, all with weapons. So get cracking. Happy Hunting."

Leech turned off the mike and laughed. She looked at her watch.

"Damn, I let them out far too late…"

The time read- 1:45 pm.

41 Remain


	2. Hour 2

**©Hour 2: 41 remaining – 2:00pm. **

Boy #1, Sam ran for ten minutes before he stopped, finding himself surrounded by almost tropical foliage.

Sam was worried. He'd always felt unpopular, and even before he found himself in Battle Royale, was paranoid that people were out to get him. And now he was certain that everyone was going to try to kill him. He'd heard how these things worked out. Sure, friends would stick with friends, but by the end they'd end up slashing each other's throats as the three-day dead line approached.

So he prayed. He wasn't normally a religious person, in fact he was quite the opposite, but at this moment, he got down on his knees and began to pray.

_Dear God, _

_I know I've definitely not been the best Christian, or Jew or whichever religion is right. But right now I'm asking for your help. This shit is fucked up. I don't want to die. Please, PLEASE help me… _

After a moment he stopped, feeling embarrassed, and turned to his pack. He yanked the zipper back and reached in to find what he'd been given as a weapon. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he'd been assigned a good weapon.

When he pulled it out he was stunned. And he began to laugh, as he slowly began to realize how much shit he was in.

Clutched in his hand was the dud weapon: the fork.

Girl #9, Rachael, was terrified. Completely and absolutely. She was terrified for herself, for her family back home, for her friends in the class, and she was terrified even for her enemies. Upon hearing why they were trapped on this island, Rachael had fought back bile and tears for the next twenty minutes, as the mechanics behind the program were laid out. She had looked fearfully towards Zoe, who was sitting next to her, hoping for reassurance. On the other side of Zoe, Chloe had done the same. Zoe had remained silent until students began to get called out.

She had slid back and said, "Hey, listen, I can't tell much from the map she showed us, but here's the plan, Find the nearest building. Go straight there, but _do not go inside_. It's likely others will end up there and we have to be careful, so wait on the east side of the building until the rest of us show up. Okay?"

Rachael and Chloe had nodded. Zoe had been about to inform Melanie of their plan when Miss Leech had turned to her and given her one of the most blood-freezing looks Zoe could ever have imagined possible on a human's face. She had immediately shut her mouth and curled into the fetus position. Melanie was called up before she could inform her of their plans.

Rachael's terror had been lessened when she realized that not everyone would take part. Zoe wanted them in a group, which of course meant that she intended to find a way off the island. It was comforting to know her friend still cared.

So when Zoe had been called out just one number before her, as Girl #8, Rachael had been expecting her to wait when she was called as Girl #9. When she wasn't, her terror had begun to creep back. But she waited in the trees near the bunker, and before too long, Chloe had appeared. Calling out to her softly, the two had hugged quickly, before heading off to their agreed meeting place.

They took it slow and were very cautious. They saw a few figures run through the thick forest around them, but none of them noticed the two girls.

The buildings they'd agreed upon were close, and it had just appeared in their field of vision when they saw someone step outside of it. The two girls froze in the middle of the path they'd been on, not being able to tell who it was. They were relieved to find that it was Girl #19, Emma. They had run to her, and explained the situation. Emma had hugged them, agreeing to stay with them and wait for Zoe.

But she'd never shown. Already an hour into the competition and she hadn't made it.

"Oh God, where is she?" Rachael moaned, on the verge of tears. It had been Zoe who had kept her from losing it in the bunker, and if something happened to her…

"Don't worry!" Chloe said, hugging Rachael around the neck, "She's probably just a bit lost." Chloe nodded, and repeated firmly, "Just a bit lost." She failed to mention to either of the other two girls that a growing fear for Zoe's safety had begun to well inside her as well.

Girl #8, Zoe, had indeed become lost. Upon leaving the bunker, she had immediately begun a search for Melanie. Zoe had known her a while, and didn't want anything to happen to her. She thought that Melanie would've hidden and waited, or at least not made it very far. She'd roamed the forest around the bunker for about ten minutes before giving up her search. That was when she realised she'd gone much, much too far. She'd gotten turned around, and now everything around her looked the same. The same old trees, the same old bushes. She couldn't even tell where the bunker was!

"RACHAEL!" She screamed, losing all sense of caution in a moment of blind panic. By now, everyone had to be out of the bunker. Surely Rachael could hear her. SURELY!

The only reply she got was a muffled 'ow', and a dull whacking sound.

Zoe clapped her hands to her mouth and dropped to the ground. Crawling forward on her knees, she peered over the top of a bush, trying to find the source of the noise.

Twenty metres away, there was a crashing from some undergrowth. Zoe whimpered, as she saw Boy #16, Stu, stumble out from the trees. Zoe had always been a little frightened by Stu; she'd seen his violent side a few times. Once, he had gotten into a fist-fight with a boy in another class. The whole ninth grade had encircled the two boys and cheered. Zoe, who had been chatting with Melanie, was suddenly swallowed up by a crowd, calling out for blood. It had been one of the more frightening experiences of her life, especially when she saw Stu knock several teeth from the other boy's jaw. And so Zoe became a little afraid of him. He seemed so big to her, so strong and…manly…all the time.

But now, something was wrong with him. He seemed like he was drunk or something, he seemed to be literally unable to stand.

"Stu…" Zoe whispered, her stomach knotting.

The boy fell to his knees, and put a hand up to the back of his head and moaned, loudly. He cried out in stunned amazement, and fell forward onto his stomach.

A laughing from behind the dead boy caught Zoe's attention. Stepping out from the trees came Boy #18, Dan, the unpopular, nerdish wiener of Class C. He'd always had his head buried in a book, most often a math or physics book. He'd always been so timid and shy…but…now…

"Dear God…" Zoe said, quietly.

Dan had exited the bunker towards the end of the student list. Immediately after getting out, he slid underneath a bush and checked his pack for his assigned weapon, which turned out to be a black crow-bar.

Sighing, he said, "Damn, could've been better…still…" He swung the crow-bar a few times, making short work of the bush, "It'll be enough…"

With that he'd started his hunt. He knew he was desperately outmatched physically, but if he could find someone with a good enough weapon and stupid enough not to notice he was coming, he thought he might have a chance, what with his vast array of knowledge.

And he'd found that someone, in Stu.

Stu had come out four students ahead of Dan, and immediately opened his bag to find his weapon. What was inside was a Walther P22, a short, stocky handgun. Stu smiled. He was now supremely confident that he'd come out of the Battle Royale unscathed.

He started searching for some friends, wondering where they could be. In the back of his mind he was wondering whether or not he was going to play the game. He was positive he didn't wish to harm the boys in his gang, and there were quite a few girls he was quite sweet on, Felicity especially, but he knew that some people he wouldn't especially mind putting a bullet through…Francis Ford for example.

But he never got a chance. Mere minutes into the second hour, he felt a throbbing pain suddenly explode in the back of his head. He hissed and stumbled forward, reaching around to where the pain had originated from. He felt for a moment, before his fingers found something sticky, matted into his hair. He sobbed suddenly, realising that someone had hit him. He stepped forward, emerging from a bank of trees. He staggered for a moment, trying to keep his footing. Eventually he found it was completely in vain. He slipped to his knees, and then, as darkness clouded his vision, he felt himself flop onto his stomach.

Dan had been stunned by how easy it was. If he'd been a betting man he would've said Stu would've been around a long time, but in the time since he left the bunker, he'd only been in the game half an hour at the most. Dan laughed and knelt down beside the dead boy. He looked at the wound the hooked edge of the crowbar had caused and shuddered. It was quite a disgusting thing. Dan had been an expert in science when they had dissected a cow's eye, but this was something a whole lot worse. He decided not to dwell on it, and instead picked up the P22 Stu had dropped. He stared at it lovingly for a moment, before pocketing it and heading out to find more of what he thought was to be many victims.

He never noticed Zoe sneak away behind him.

Boy #16- Stu, dead. 40 remaining.

Boy #2, Anthony, was quite shocked when neither his girlfriend, Rebecca, nor his 'best friend' Sam waited for him outside. Bec was always with him, always. And Sam…well Sam was always trying to hang with him; he could barely spend five minutes away from him during school. Literally. He'd sit down to English. Sam would be there. Japanese, Sam would be there. IT, Sam would be there. Every subject which the two shared, Sam would instantly sit with Anthony. He was like a lap-dog. So why the hell didn't he wait for him? The one time he actually wanted Sam to be there was the one time he was gone.

He was thinking about this when, from behind him he heard a cough and a whimper.

Then, "ANTHONY!"

Anthony whirled around, preparing to sprint as fast as he could in any direction. He'd accepted that at any time he may be attacked.

But all he saw was Boy #9, Ben, someone he managed to be on OK terms with most of the time.

"Oh, hey Ben…" Anthony said, his fear ebbing away.

Immediately Ben jogged up to him and asked, "What weapon did you get?"

Anthony shrugged. He dropped his pack to the ground, knelt down and opened it. He was about to reach inside when he looked up at Ben, and began to size him up. What were his intentions? What was he thinking?

So before he checked his own weapon he asked, "What did _you_ get?"

"Oh," Ben said, "This!" He held it up. It was a simple steak knife, like the kind Anthony used at home (the exact same kind his crazy little brother wasn't allowed to use because he might hurt someone). "But I ain't gonna really get a chance to use it."

Anthony took this as a sign that Ben wouldn't be attacking him any time soon, he just seemed too sincere. So Anthony reached into his bag and searched for his weapon. Upon pulling it out, he recognized it as a black, semi-automatic Colt .45. He was filled with a sense of relief. At least if some bad went down, he'd have a gun.

Ben whistled in awe. The two were quiet for moment.

"What do we do now?" Ben asked.

"Well…everyone's going to go for the buildings that are on the map. So…I'm thinking we find somewhere no one will go…I reckon the beach." Anthony explained. He didn't really want to spend what could be his last moments with Ben, but he accepted it for the moment.

"Okay…" Ben said, trusting Anthony implicitly.

The two boys headed out, Anthony keeping a sharp eye out for Bec, and for any sign of…danger from his companion.

Girl #4, Melanie, had been terrified from the moment she'd woken up inside the bunker. Her terror increased ten-fold when she discovered why she was there.

A day ago she'd been happily reading about the up-coming sixth Harry Potter book, and now she was stumbling around an unknown, dark forest, where, if she took a wrong turn, she could end up with a jugular sliced open by explosives!

She'd left the bunker and immediately found some kind of path to follow. Finding it, she ran its entire length until she found that it lead to a complete dead-end, when it dumped itself into a stream. Sighing, Melanie dropped her pack, and opened it to find her weapon. The only thing she found were two smooth, cylindrical sticks connected by a chain. She'd heard of these…Sam had mentioned them in Japanese Class…nun-chucks, that's what they were. But they were no good to her; all they did was make her angry and sick. They just reminded her of where she was. Swearing Melanie had turned, only to find herself facing the pointed end of a weapon that had been designed centuries ago.

The next girl to be let out had been Girl #5, Tess. Tess was equally as scared as Melanie. But she was thankful she had gotten out before all her friends, and all the people she thought were going to start playing this sick game.

Deciding it was best to get away from the bunker ASAP, she'd followed a path she'd found. As she rose to the top of a small mound in the path, Tess had been shocked to see a figure not one hundred metres ahead of her. She dropped to the ground, her mind racing.

No one could've gotten here before her unless they'd left the bunker earlier than she did. Trying to recall all those who'd exited previously, she could only remember Meghan and Dave. But that figure was neither of those. Lifting her head, Tess realized that it was Melanie.

"Crap…" She whispered. She didn't know much about Melanie…for all she knew, Melanie was the type of person who'd play.

Her mind made up, she stealthily ran forward, her designated weapon, a Japanese Katana (a samurai sword) raised in front of her. She stopped just behind Melanie and waited for her to turn around…

"FUCK!" Melanie screamed, kicking backwards and onto her backside, "What the fuck do you want!"

Tess sighed with relief, and lowered the weapon.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" Tess said, "I wanted to make sure you weren't going to kill me or something!"

Panting, Melanie stuttered, "So you're not going to try to…slit my throat?"

"OF COURSE NOT!" Tess said, putting out a hand, to help the other girl up.

"Then again," Mel said, "With that thing, you'd probably end up cutting my head off instead."

"Yeah," Tess said, admiring the sword for a moment, "What'd you get?"

Mel picked the nun-chucks up from where she'd dropped them and showed them to the other girl. She laughed.

"Looks like we got the Japanese weapons…" Mel said, "Seems fitting…this fucking thing started in Japan."

Tess nodded solemnly, before saying, "Well, what do we do?"

"Look for friends…people who might find a way out of this. We probably won't, we're probably going to die…but…we have to try!"

The sixth girl out of the bunker, Girl #6, Alana, had intended, as soon as she found out about this whole goddamn mess, to just hide and wait it out. Maybe someone would save her and get her out! And of course…maybe the deadline would pass and she'd die. But she treated that indifferently. She wasn't scared of death, just of how it was going to happen. Death-by-bomb didn't sound so bad to her. At least if she stayed hidden she'd know how Death would come.

After running blindly through the forest for most of the second hour, she'd caught her foot on a rock, and fallen to the ground. Her designated weapon, a hatchet, had shot out of her hand, and clattered down the rocky interior of a cave. Smiling, Alana had slid down into the cave, grabbing her hatchet on the way.

"Perfect…" She whispered, settling herself in between two rocks, for what she hoped would be a quiet three days…at least until the inevitable happened. She didn't think about the other students. Selfish as it sounded, she wasn't going to risk her own neck to go and find them, not even her boyfriend, Darren. Sure, she cared about him, but she didn't think a high school romance was enough to warrant her putting herself in more danger. She just couldn't…She'd be fine in that cave…maybe she could just sleep…

Boy #6, Jack, leader extraordinaire (but still very, very short) had had met up with casual friend Boy #11, Oliver, quite soon after the second boy had left the bunker. Neither boy found it wise to hang around the bunker, so they headed off into the forest, to try to add more people to their group. Jack was positive that they could make it out off the damn island if they only tried. Nothing is full-proof, and Battle Royale would be no exception.

The first person they ran into was Boy #7, Tom. In his hand was a fire-axe (exactly the same as the one Oneesan had on the training video).

"HEY!" Tom said, running up to the two boys, happy to find someone. He himself had been looking for no one in particular. He'd never tell the others, but upon leaving the bunker, he'd almost broke down. As he'd entered the forest surrounding the starting point, he'd felt his stomach twist and burn. Sweat broke out over his body and tears began to form in his eyes. He'd managed to compose himself, but only by telling himself the same thing Jack had said to Oliver, 'We can get out of here'.

Jack was ecstatic he'd found Tom. Oliver was wary though, he held up his police baton defensively. Tom stopped, scared. He'd only just realized that it was entirely possible that Oliver and Jack were against him.

Jack however, merely stuck his hand out in front of Ollie, and pushed the baton down.

"It's OK," He said, "It's Tom!"

Ollie was still hesitant. It wasn't until Jack physically pushed the police baton down that Ollie realized that Tom's axe was dragging on the ground, in an entirely non-offensive manner. Ollie shook his head, as if to clear it, before apologizing to Tom.

"S'ok." Tom said, "No harm no foul. Jack what'd you get given?"

Jack held up his weapon, a sharpened stake. Laughing, Jack joked, "Hey, I can't kill humans, but vampires…FOR SURE!"

The three laughed together. It felt like old times, despite the extenuating circumstances.

In a flash however, Tom had hissed, thrown his axe to the ground and grabbed at something hiding behind a tree near them. He threw whatever it was to the other two boys' feet and said, "We had an eaves-dropper!"

Ollie gasped, at the person who lay before him.

It was Girl #18, Felicity, a girl Ollie had lusted after on several occasions.

"Oh, hey…" Felicity said, unsurely, "I'm going to go now!" She said, getting to her feet and trying to escape.

"Not so fast!" Tom said, grabbing her around the waist and pushing her gently back into the centre of the three, "What weapon were you assigned?" He'd already come to the conclusion that Felicity was safe. If she'd wanted to kill them she would've tried already.

Felicity rolled her eyes and pulled it out from her pack. It was a fancy-looking crossbow, already loaded, and about fifty arrows. "Pretty cool!" Ollie said. He'd already begun thinking about how the group could take it from her. He wasn't the most girl-friendly person in the world, and he didn't exactly want some chick screwing up their chances for survival.

"Can I go now?" Felicity asked, still trying to push through the boys.

"Why do you need to leave? Why not stay?" Tom asked, smiling.

Felicity didn't understand that smile. Was he being sincere? Did he want to protect her, or rape her, or what?

She was hesitant towards the idea. "Please," She said, pleadingly, "I just want to find my friends, _please_!"

Tom shrugged and said, "OK." The other boys gaped at him. Felicity squealed quietly with delight and knocked the boys' hands off her. She made a dash for the trees when she heard Tom say, "Of course, that's assuming you can defend yourself." Felicity stopped, and turned to him, "What do you mean?"

"I'm sure you've figured out that we're in serious shit. I can guarantee, that while it may start out slow, this thing is gonna go down just as they planned. People are gonna start attacking people who were their best friends. Are you sure you can trust your friends? Are you sure you can even find them before someone with an M16 gets trigger-happy and you end up a bloody Swiss-cheese?" Tom said, "If you think yes than go, we ain't stopping you."

Felicity, stopped. Her brain kept on ticking over and over. He was right about the others. She couldn't trust them. She'd seen how much they back-stabbed each other, even when they were at school. Now that they were in a literal life-or-death situation, she knew that it would be dangerous going to them. Sighing in defeat she said, "OK, fine…I'll go with you guys…But where do we go?"

Tom lifted his map to his eyes and scanned the island, before saying, "Here, this cross should be a church. We can hide there."

The others checked their maps to verify, and nodded. Jack was confident they'd be able to make it secure. Felicity was just grateful to the boys for protecting her. The only one who wasn't so sure was Ollie. To begin with he was uncomfortable with letting a girl into their group. He'd never trusted a girl in his life. And then of course he was unsure that holing themselves up was a good plan. But he said nothing.

"Let's go!" Jack said, leading the way.

Boy #5, Kris, had always been stunned at how well he and Boy #4 Dave meshed. They'd been friends since Dave had come into Class C, and never once had a fight.

They meshed so well, mere minutes into the Battle Royale, they'd found each other. It seemed like instinct; although it was more through the lucky coincidence they came out right on each other's heels.

Kris had bounded up to Dave and, despite them both having reservations about man-to-man affection, they hugged a friend's hug for a moment before the two of them noticed someone coming from the bunker. They ducked into the trees and ran for a moment, before mutually agreeing they were far enough when they reached a deserted path.

It was then they pulled open their packs to reveal their selected weapons.

Dave was a little disappointed to find two sickles. While he was happy to have a bladed weapon (they could kill just as well as a gun, if only at close-range), a sickle wasn't what he was looking for. They seemed quite awkward to use.

But Kris was floored with his weapon. He had to look for only a milli-second to find his weapon. It was so recognisable, that any eight-year old who played video games could tell him what it was, a Kalashnikov AK-47.

Dave stared at it dumb-founded, "DUDE! YOU GOT A FUCKING KALASHNIKOV!"

"They…they gave this to a kid?" Kris mumbled, stunned. He fumbled with it for a moment, before he turned bright red, "I mean, for one thing…it's a huge advantage to me and…well…" He stared at the ground, sheepishly, "I don't know how to use it…"

Dave gawked at Kris, his mouth open wide enough for his chin to rest on his collar-bone, "You…don't know how to use a gun?"

"It's complicated an-"

Dave cut him off, yanking the weapon from his hands, "Here…idiot!"

Dave flicked a switch on the side and aimed off into the bushes. He fired a quick burst from the rifle. The kick-back was enormous, and the noise was deafening.

But not deafening enough to mask the scream.

Upon leaving the bunker, Girl #16, Alexandra, had spoken to no one. She had seen Dan walking around a long way off, but had hidden. Later she'd also seen Sam run past, a mere twenty metres ahead. He'd been running so fast that he didn't even notice her, much to her pleasure.

She'd opened her pack quite late, after walking around for almost an hour. In it she had found a big, black, clunky gun. She' looked at the manual for it. There, she discovered that it was a SPAS combat shotgun. She had picked up the box of shells she'd been given, but hadn't the courage to load them into the weapon. So, instead of arming herself, she'd crawled into a bank of bushes and trees to her side. There she would be relatively protected for the time being. She wanted to find her friends, but she didn't have the energy. She was too…traumatised.

She had rested in the bushes for only a few minutes when she heard feet upon the path which she'd left. Pressing herself to the ground, she stopped breathing, desperately trying to not make a sound.

That's when she heard the two boys talking. That's when her heart sank. It was…boys. It had to be boys.

Ever since she was a young girl, boys had scared Alexandra. On her first day of kindergarten, an older boy had peeked up her dress, like some young boys do. Then there were the nightmare stories her sister had told her once she started school. She said that boys liked to scare girls, pull their hair, and sometimes pull out their…things…and do Bad Things. To Alexandra, boys were always doing Bad Things. And that scared her.

Obviously, as she got older, that fear diminished, slightly. Her sister stopped telling those stories, the other girls stopped going on about 'cooties'. But the fear of boys and Bad Things was still there. It would probably always be there. It wasn't anything great, or so she thought. She'd started having crushes on boys, and that's when she started to _believe_ that her lifelong fear of boys was done.

But now, hiding in a bunch of foliage, clutching an unloaded weapon to her chest and silently crying, Alex realised that that fear had not gone, just hidden. The boys were back, and Alex feared they would inevitably start doing Bad Things. And in a situation like this, might their Bad Things become…Worse Things?

She listened to their voices. She could now tell it was Dave and Kris. This comforted her somewhat. Though their social circles were radically different, Alex knew the two a little, even though she was relatively new to the class. She didn't think they'd be the kind to take part in _anything_ sanctioned by the government, let alone a teenaged bloodbath. But she still didn't say anything. The Bad Things still loomed over her head.

As she listened, she heard them mention something called a 'kalasmaskopf'. She had no idea what it was, but she guessed it was their weapon. She began praying the two would leave. She didn't expect violence but she still wanted them gone. She wanted her friends, her family and her stuffed pig, Mr Zeebo.

She heard something click from where Dave and Kris stood. She tensed. Alex didn't watch a lot of action movies, but her brother played a hell of a lot of video games, and she thought for a fleeting second that she recognized that noise.

That's when the shooting started. It was a short burst from some very loud gun. Most of the bullets passed over Alex's head, but she felt two thuds in her thigh. She looked down to see what the thuds could've been. In the centre of her thigh, she could see two quite large circles of red. She stared at it for a moment. In a sudden flash, the pain, the excruciating pain, flooded her senses. She shrieked out in shock and terror, as blood began to pour from the two bullet-holes, soaking her school-kilt. She continued screaming, and screaming and screaming.

Kris stared at where the screaming had come from, white as a sheet. Dave moaned, and almost hurled. He'd done some bad shit in his short life, but he could tell now that this was the icing on the cake.

"What…did…you…do?!" Kris stuttered.

"I…I…" Dave stuttered. He whimpered, dropping the AK. He stepped backward, and turned, preparing to run.

Kris saw him about to go, and grabbed him, shouting hysterically, "No! Help!"

Dave moaned, looking back into Kris' terror-stricken face. He swore to himself, before diving into the bushes. He immediately felt his accidental victim's arm, so he grabbed it, and dragged them out into the path.

Lying before them was the wounded form of Alexandra. Kris cried out when he saw the two, ragged, bloody holes in her thigh, and knelt down next to her.

"OK, OK, OK, FUCK!" He said, "What do I do?"

Alex stared at him. While still in indescribable pain, Alex's mind was calm enough to take in the sight of Kris kneeling beside her, doing his best (which wasn't all that good) to help. He pressed down on her wounds, trying to stem the blood flow. Tears were beginning to slide down his cheeks. To Alexandra, he looked like an angel.

When she looked at Dave, for a moment she thought she'd looked at the devil.

He wasn't crying like Kris was. He wasn't distraught at what he'd done. But then, neither was he smiling, like some sick bastards might have been. He was just staring. Not even blankly, he just…looked, like how any person would look when waiting for a train. His front was bloody from dragging her out of the bushes, and he didn't even seem to notice.

"HELP!" Kris moaned.

"Right…" Dave mumbled. He too knelt done. He looked into Alex's eyes, and she looked back. "It's going to be OK Alex. It's going to be fine."

Alex could now feel that this was one of the boys her sister had tried to warn her about. This boy…was Bad. Deep down bad. Maybe not just yet…but soon. She could tell.

Girl #20, Veronica, flicked a strand of her shortish black hair off her face, as she continued her search for the perfect vantage point.

Veronica had already decided on her game-plan. If she sees someone, take them out. She'd decided this before she'd even left the bunker, and had been most pleased when she found that her weapon was a sniper rifle, which, according to the manual, was currently being employed all over the world in SWAT teams and armies. It was dismantled when she found it, but had managed to assemble it from the instructions she was given. Veronica was a girly-girl, but she knew enough about weapons to know that this gave her an advantage if she could somehow find herself somewhere high and isolated.

So she had begun searching. It had proved difficult. She was being cautious, very cautious. It was broad daylight and she knew she didn't stand a chance against most of the people in the class who would start playing. If she could just find this vantage point she'd be fine. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't die, and she would do anything to make sure that that promise was kept.

Boy #20, Angel, had been teased mercilessly in primary school for his name. They thought it was 'faggy', and that he was a weakling. When the TV show _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _started airing, this abuse increased, as he shared a name with the lead romantic interest. The boys had ripped into him about it everyday. That changed when they reached high school, and along with it, puberty.

Suddenly, every girl was fawning over Angel. None of them knew a thing about him, having avoided him most of his life. Now, this 'mystery' had suddenly become attractive, as it had quickly become evident that Angel was fast becoming the most gorgeous boy in the school, let alone their year level. Seeing this sudden amount of attention Angel was getting from the females of the school, the other boys had immediately taken a 'liking' to him, if only to put themselves in the girls' good graces. It was proof that popularity in school was a fickle, fickle thing.

Angel had left quite late into the roll call. His current girlfriend, Felicity, had been called as #18, and he had been only mildly affected by her absence. Sure, she was nice, and a hell of a fuck, but he didn't really need her. Especially not in this messed up scenario. She'd want to go off looking for friends and get herself killed. He didn't need that.

So, once he left, he first ran for ten minutes, flat out. Being an almost champion athlete, he managed this easily. When he stopped, he checked his weapons. He was frustrated to find only four bottles, filled with an amber liquid. Checking the 'manual' (really it was just a single sided piece of paper, this wasn't the most complicated weapon), Angel discovered that they were in fact Molotov Cocktails. Rags and a lighter were also included. Feeling _slightly_ better, Angel had pocketed the lighter and swung the bags over his shoulder. Preparing to head off _somewhere_, Angel had spotted someone, not thirty yards to his left, walking along a separate path. Edging closer to them, and hiding behind bushes, he had realized that that person was the Thai student, Girl #17, June, who had left only a few people before he did it.

He knew that Battle Royale was real, and that whether or not he liked it, there would be only one winner. Angel weighed the possibilities. He could call out to June, and be shot dead by a crazed Thai girl who had decided to play. He could call out to June and find a girl who was desperately searching for someone to help her, only to betray that person when it came to the end. He could call out to her and find a girl who genuinely just wanted to live, and die with her when time expired. He could hide, and let her pass, only to hear her name called on one of the announcements. There were countless others but in the end, he ignored them out, and did what his heart told him. That was how he would play the game. With his heart.

Stepping onto the path June was on, Angel called out her name.

She screamed suddenly, and turned around, losing her footing as she did so and falling on her behind. Angel ran up to her and reached out for her hand. He pulled it back immediately when he saw what she was carrying. In both hands she held silver-colored sai, a trident-like weapon from medieval Japan that Angel knew well from his long hours at the controls of a Mortal Kombat video game.

Angel backed up, hands in the air, as June stumbled to her feet.

She held the sai out in front of her, and said, "What do you want?"

"I want…to help. I want to find a way out of here."

"Are you telling the truth?"

"Of course!"

June lowered the sai, and said, "Good." They were both silent for a moment, before suddenly, June ran up to Angel and threw her arms around him, dropping her weapons in the process. She hugged him tightly, throwing Angel completely by surprise.

He looked at her face, which was buried in his chest. She was crying, and kept on muttering 'I just want it to end' over and over.

Angel sighed, and hugged her back, awkwardly at first. The two stood for a moment, before June pulled back.

"I'm sorry," She said, wiping away a tear, "It's just…this is messed up and I just…wanted to find someone…nice."

"Well," Angel said, "I'm someone nice."

"Yes," June said, certainly, "You are."

In a bizarre twist, Boys #13 and #14 Stefan and Calin came out on each other's heels. Naturally, Stefan had waited for Calin to emerge. The two had embraced for a moment, before heading off through the bushes, keeping low and doing their best to avoid others until they were more prepared.

Boy #15, Darren, had come out right behind them. From the very beginning, he was the only person who knew _exactly_ what he was going to do. Most people looked at him, and what they saw was a homophobe, not that uncommon an occurrence for a boy who lived in southern Australia. But what they didn't know was just how deep his utter _hatred _for gay people went.

When he was six, he had been playing with his friend and neighbour, Billy. The two were in Darren's backyard, playing with a broken stethoscope Darren's mother had brought back from work. Naturally, the two started playing doctor, as there are few other possibilities when one is playing with a stethoscope. Darren had been the doctor, and Billy the patient. As the two played, they somehow ended up admiring each other.

Out of curiosity, Billy had said, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Darren had been about to oblige, when the two boys realized that Darren's father was behind them. Looking up into his red, vein-filled face, Darren had instantly known he'd done something wrong. His father had screamed at the two of them. Not just yelled, screamed. His left fist flew through the air and struck Billy on the cheek. The young boy yelped in pain and terror, and had immediately scrambled away under the fence which separated each family's house. Darren's father had screeched after him to never see his son again.

Grabbing Darren by the arm, he dragged him into the house, where immediately he began to tell him about 'faggots'. About how faggots like Billy would act nice to him, how they would say it felt good and was nice. That they'd act like nothing would happen, and then BAM! He told his son, in graphic detail the things fags did to little boys like him. Darren's eyes had filled with terror, at the 'realization' of what could have happened had he taken Billy up on his offer.

To end, his father had asked, "Are you a faggot, son?"

Immediately, Darren had spat, "HELL NO! I ain't no fag! And I never will be!"

Darren had lived his life believing what his father had told him. The exact same thing had happened when Darren watched the pass-over episode of _Rugrats_, but the bad guys this time around were Jews. That was how he learned. His father told him who to like, and who to hate. So when he found out that two of his classmates were gay, he had immediately begun his ceaseless campaign of torture and harassment. He had regularly spray-painted big, red penises on the boys' lockers, and would often run up behind one of them and shove them into what was ever nearby. Once it was a teacher, once it was a dumpster and once it had been a young girl carrying a pair of scissors. It was a miracle that Stefan had managed to avoid becoming impaled.

So when he realized that he was in Battle Royale, the first thing to come to mind was _Time to die you perverted fucks._

He had come out of the bunker just in time to see the two break off their kiss, and head off to find shelter. Anger built inside him, and he silently began to follow them, drawing his weapon (a screwdriver, which was next to pointless as he had a better weapon, his own switchblade, in the bag he'd brought from home, which was swung over the same shoulder as the pack which contained his supplies).

Boy #13, Stefan, was having difficulty keeping up with his boyfriend, Boy #14, Calin. It was difficult to run through forest, and it was doubly difficult when one was trying to open bags as well. Stefan continually shouted out for Calin to stop, but he ignored him. Calin just kept running, his hand gripping tightly onto Stefan's.

Calin finally stopped when he felt Stefan fall behind him.

Turning back to see him, Calin shouted, "Stefan come on we have to keep going!"

"No!" Stefan said, firmly.

"Yes we do come on!" Calin said, pulling on his arm, trying to yank the boy to his feet.

"Calin, STOP!"

Calin stopped. He stared down at where Stefan lay on the ground.

"Stefan…" Calin whimpered. Unshed tears began to gather in his eyes. "What are we going to do?" He collapsed into the dust, falling into Stefan's arms. "This is _so_ fucked up! What are we going to do?"

Stefan held him close as he cried. He didn't no how to respond. There was nothing that he really _could_ do.

After a moment, Calin sat back, continuing to cry. Stefan pulled their bags in front of him. First he checked inside Calin's. Inside he found the bread, water, flashlight and map as Oneesan said he would, but he also found a common, blue biro pen. He held it up, puzzled.

Calin laughed coldly, "I guess that's my weapon." He took it from him and sat quietly, staring at him.

Stefan dragged his bag in front of him and searched it too. Along with the supplies, he found himself holding a small, red pick-axe. He flipped it around, thinking that it could've been worse for him, though Calin had definitely gotten one of the least effective weapons available.

The two stood up together, each holding onto their 'weapon'. Stefan carried the two supply bags, while Calin carted the lighter day packs each boy had brought.

"Let's go." Calin whispered. He turned to leave, but Stefan grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. "What?" Calin moaned, looking up into Stefan's dark eyes.

"Just relax. It's not over yet." He leaned in, and Calin leaned up. Their lips met once again, and Calin felt all the troubles temporarily dissipate.

When Calin kissed, he occasionally would open his eyes to look at Stefan. It was common for him. So when he did it, he wasn't worried. But what he saw this time was a worry. Oh how it was worry.

Calin screamed, grabbing Stefan's arms and trying to pull him with him as he tried to run.

Everything slowed down. As he fell, Calin could see…everything…every bug, ever speck of sweat…and when it was done…every drop of blood.

Stefan had merely been puzzled at Calin's sudden terror. When it finally clicked, it was too late. He whirled around. There, in front of him, was Darren, that gay-hating anti-Semite. He didn't manage to scream. By the time he realized what Darren was doing, the other boy had jabbed his right hand forward.

Stefan felt a heavy pop in his neck. He could tell immediately that Darren had stabbed him with something blunt. The pain didn't show up immediately, it took a second for it to get its agonizing grip.

The tip of the screwdriver, Darren's weapon, had pierced the area of Stefan's neck just below his Adam's Apple. It forced its way toward his spine, but was stopped by the boy's larynx, which was immediately crushed and torn beyond use and recognition.

Darren yanked his hand back. This motion upset the shaky balance Stefan had, and he slumped to all fours. His torso had lost all feeling. He reached up to feel the wound, only to find that blood was spurting forth from his neck like the pumps used on old yakuza movies. He tried to gasp, but all that came out was a gurgle, as ruined portions of his vocal chords and wind pipe began to slide out the hole in his neck.

Stefan's mouth slipped open, and blood sprayed out in a fine mist. He managed one last moan of incomprehension, before he finally slipped fully to the ground. The last thing he saw was Calin's terrified face.

Darren smiled, looking at the bloodied screwdriver. Confident Stefan was dead, he turned to his next target.

Calin was still on his butt two metres away. He was stunned by what happened. In a matter of seconds his lover had been torn away from him. He was gone.

Struggling to his feet, his biro still in hand, Calin moaned, "What…what did you do?"

"I killed the faggot, just like my Daddy told me," Darren said, leering evilly, "And your next cock-sucker."

Calin was not an angry person. He was flamboyant, wore eye-liner and danced to Madonna. But hearing those words…seeing the thing that had killed his lover…it changed him. He had become a Berserker of Viking legend.

The two stared at each other for a moment, each equally matched weapon-wise.

Suddenly, Darren darted forward, performing the exact same move he'd done on Stefan. Calin easily slipped around his downward moving arm and brought his own weapon up. Calin had calmly aimed for the most vulnerable spot he could reach. Everything slowed once more, the same as with Stefan. Calin saw his target and drove the pen home.

A moment later Darren was screaming, clutching his face.

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" He shrieked in utter pain.

Calin smirked. Blood was now streaming from Darren's left eye-socket, mixed in with a clear, viscous fluid. Calin looked at his pen, which was still being held in his hand. Staring back at him Darren's crumpled left eye. The pen's nib had pierced the eye's pupil, cruising through its internal workings before reaching out the back. In the process of screeching in pain, Darren had instinctively jerked his head back, thus inadvertently leaving his own eye behind. However, it was still connected to his head by the optic nerve, which was now stretched grotesquely.

Calin dropped the pen, and dropped to the ground, where he grabbed the screwdriver Darren had let go of. While his 'prey' busied himself somewhere else, Darren shrieked in agony and whirled around, his eye whirling with him.

Calin stood, and slashed out with the screwdriver. Though it had no blade to speak of, it managed to slice through the mangled optic nerve quite effectively, sending Darren's ruined eye flying off into the bushes. Calin rushed forward to finish the job, but Darren, even though now half-blind and in indescribably sickening pain, kicked out, causing Calin to trip and fall right over Darren's head. Darren took this chance and stumbled to his feet, before randomly running into the forest.

Calin hissed, as his prey escaped. Throwing the screw-driver down, he began his chase after Darren. A chase that would end in Darren's death…no matter what…he had to be stopped…Stefan…Stefan…

Boy #13- Stefan, dead. 39 remaining.

Alexander had left just shy of the half way point, as Boy #10. He immediately fled the scene.

Alex was no fool. He knew that few would want to side with him. Ever since primary school, it had been the case. To cut a long story short, Alex was the kid who got picked last for anything (excepting when Dan and Francis were around, then they would rotate) and never had birthday parties, because he knew no one would come.

So, when he realised what this was, he had been frozen with dread. He knew instantly he'd lose. He couldn't side with anyone, because they would kill him, or run from him. And he couldn't fight them, because…as much as they hated him, he couldn't do anything to them. He didn't hate them. He wasn't a hurtful person.

So, from the very beginning Alex knew he was doomed. He _knew_ death was coming he just didn't know how.

Doing his best to shrug off those thoughts, Alex slid into a bank of bushes, like so many others had done, and opened his pack. In it, he found something heavy. He lifted it, and found himself facing a monstrous Smith & Wesson revolver. Even though he abhorred violence, Alex knew that this was an impressive piece, and he was 'lucky' to have been given it. If worse came to worse…a gun would come in handy if he ever felt the need…to take drastic measures to save himself from a painful death.

Boy #3, Jonathon, was glad he'd done what he did. Two of his friends, Anthony and Sam had already left, but he didn't want to find them. He didn't want to find anyone. He just wanted to go…and think. He'd often thought about death, and he never thought it would come at the hands of a classmate.

Sighing, Jonathon found himself at the base of a low cliff. Here, he stopped and opened his pack. Digging through it, he found a big, bulky blue thing. He soon realized it was a nail-gun. He'd never used one before, but the manual was most helpful in explaining the mechanics of it.

Sighing, and sitting back, Jonathon's mind flashed to all the fun the class had had. The day they got to skip classes and go get fish and chips, the year they won all the school events in a clean sweep, their impromptu dance-off in the middle of the lunch-hour.

Jonathon was self-conscious about crying. He never did it. But now he wept. He wept, and nobody saw. They were to be the last tears of his life.

Ever since they started at Ballarat and Clarendon College, Girl #3, Stephanie and Girl #12, Sophie, had been friends. You hear people throw around the word 'inseparable', but for these two it really was the truth. They were together every school day, every class, every sporting event, every weekend.

And now, they were inseparable on this island, in this game. They wouldn't leave each other. Stephanie had hidden herself up a tree just outside the bunker, waiting for her friend to leave. She was about to leave herself and find a better hiding spot when Sophie emerged from the bunker. Squealing, Stephanie had jumped down. Sophie screamed, thinking it was an attacker, but soon the two were running together.

They didn't have a plan. They didn't think they needed one, they had each other.

Girl #21, Elle, had vomited on seeing Georgina's murder. She'd vomited again when she stumbled upon the body of Boy #16, Stu. It had just been lying there. She'd thought for a moment he'd fallen over and was going to be getting up again. But…no…she could see the flies beginning to swarm. Fighting back tears she ran through the forest to find a safe-haven. She was immensely frightened. She may have been thought of as a bitch by those who didn't know her, and she knew that some would assume she'd be a killer. But that wasn't her…not really. She was just a scared girl searching for a place to rest. And she found it when she stumbled upon the house.

It was clearly old, abandoned. The windows were broken, the garden untameably unkempt, and the door was splintered, but it otherwise looked okay. It would've probably been some recluse's house, far away from prying eyes.

She stepped inside the building. Held in front of her was her selected weapon, a tazer. She scanned the building, checking all the lower floors. She'd just checked the kitchen, and gathered that there was no one there. She lowered the tazer, relief flooding her, when she felt the cylinder pressed against the back of her neck.

"What are you doing here?" Girl #7, Melissa, said shakily, hands shaking on the butt of her Desert Eagle hand-gun. Melissa had left early, and had reached the house within twenty minutes of leaving the bunker. She wanted her friends, but she didn't have the courage to wait. She'd heard horror stories of Battle Royale's that lost half of their students in the immediate vicinity of the starting location, because they waited for friends. So Melissa had run, and ended up here.

"I'm," Elle stuttered, "I'm just, looking for a place to say."

"Oh yeah, what's with the tazer then? Huh?"

_God she's terrified._ Elle stared at her, trying to stay calm. She could see the fear in the other girl, and knew immediately that she was no threat. Her hands were shaking, and the gun threatened to drop at anytime.

"People are playing this game." Elle said quietly, turning to face the other girl, "And I don't wanna give them the satisfaction of dying." She'd never heard herself speak so assertively.

Melissa stared at her for a moment, before lowering the hand-gun.

"How can they expect us to play this game?" Melissa whispered, all her composure vanishing in a second, tears welling in her eyes.

Elle hopped up onto the kitchen table and crossed her legs, sitting as 'normally' as she could.

"They don't expect all of us to play." Elle said matter-of-factly, pulling a piece of bread out of her pack, "They expect some of us to. If enough people start killing, we'll all die." She said simply, and glibly.

"It's just, so absurd." Melissa said.

"Don't I know it? Georgina, Stu, neither of them deserved to die. And for that matter, neither do we."

Melissa nodded and sat down next to Elle. After a moment Elle put an arm around her new-found companion, and comforted her as she began to cry thick and fast.

Neither girl noticed Boy #19, Andrew, sneaking around to the back of the house, or the bloodied knife in his hand.

Ten minutes before-hand, Boy 17#, Ian, a new kid, who'd only transferred in a few weeks before-hand, had almost pulled the pin on his grenade when Boy #19, Andrew, appeared in front of him. Ian had been stumbling through the forest, often going in circles. He'd seen quite a few people through the gaps in the trees. He'd seen Stephanie and Sophie, and also seen Anthony and Ben heading away from him. But he didn't know any of them well enough. None of them. He could tell that he would be alone. And that he would die…soon. And then…suddenly…just when his security was starting to fail…Andrew burst out of the trees ahead of him. Ian's hand had tightened on the grenade and his thumb had almost flicked the pin…

"Hey Ian," Andrew said, smiling, "Finally, I found someone."

Ian was a little surprised to see Andrew was in his trade-mark black coat. He knew enough to know that Andrew was a wee bit on the goth side.

"Where'd you get the coat?" He asked.

"I brought it in the back-pack I brought from home. They took my cell-phone, but they left this." Andrew explained, as he lit up a cigarette he'd removed from one of his coat's pockets. As he lowered the lighter he noticed the blood dripping from Ian's nose. "What happened to you?"

Ian was confused, until Andrew touched his own nose, demonstrating the bleeding.

"Oh, yeah," Ian said, laughing nervously, "When I got out, that, I think his name is, Francis, or, Frank or whatever, he attacked me, threw a rock at my head." He mimed whacking himself in the nose.

Andrew was shocked, "That fucker? Threw a _rock? _Damn…I didn't think he had it in him, I mean, he's always goin' on about the commandments and shit." The news had definitely come as a shock.

"Yeah," Ian said, "He stopped attacking when he saw all I had as a weapon was these grenades," He held them up. "And then he said, he said that he saw 'that faggot' Stefan dead. And Christ, he was HAPPY!"

Andrew shook his head.

"That's what fundos do. Get happy over the death of 'sinners'. It's sick. Way sicker than those supposed 'sins'."

Ian nodded. There was silence. Knowing that Stefan was dead scared him more than he'd liked to admit it. He didn't know the boy except on sight, but the fact that he was dead really knocked the message home. He'd transferred to the school, believing it to be one of the best in the country. And now he was fighting for his life, against people he barely knew. There was no way he'd win. Sure, he played footy, fine, but it didn't make him tough enough to make it out of something like a Battle Royale. It just wasn't in his character. It was in his character to be terrified, to fear how inevitable death would come. There was only one way that he could possibly know how it was coming.

"Did you ever think that, we should, not play? I mean," Ian said, almost to himself, "That we should, you know, kill…ourselves. End it quickly, painlessly?"

"No, never." Andrew said, blankly. Though the sub-culture he was a part of may be famous for suicide, he would never contemplate it. It was then he noticed Ian's finger trembling on his grenade's pin.

"I think we should." Ian said, bluntly and with almost no thought behind the action, he flicked the pin out of the miniature bomb.

"NO!" Andrew screamed, jumping to his feet. He leapt at Ian, knocking the grenade from his hand. It bounced on the ground and rolled a few metres away.

The two boys wrestled for a moment before Ian staggered to a standing position.

Andrew had dug into his pocket and whipped his weapon, a switch-blade, out, desperate for any means to stop the other boy.

"STOP IT!" Andrew had yelled.

Ian stared at the blade for a moment, when the grenade exploded behind him.

The force of the blast was so incredible that Ian flew forwards, stunned, straight onto Andrew's waiting knife.

To say the least he was shocked at feeling the knife enter his warm guts. He was shocked as he felt his own blood pour freely from his body. He was shocked when he fell to the dirt, and most of all, he was shocked when he began to cry.

"Oh, GOD!" Andrew said, grabbing Ian by the shoulders and sliding the knife out gently, "I'm sorry man, I didn't mean to!"

"It's okay." Ian spluttered, as blood began to leak from the side of his mouth, "I'm, doing what I wanted. And, besides," He coughed, "You didn't mean it, it was an accident," Ian smiled, but it faltered and his face was overcome with pain, as his stomach, liver, kidneys and intestines all tried to slide out the hole in his tummy, "I just, I just didn't realise it would hurt this bad…" He trailed off. His eyes blinked one last time. Andrew whimpered.

Boy #17- Stefan, dead. 38 remaining.

At first, boy #21, Francis, was pissed about his weapon, a GPS-like device that, as the manual that came with it explained, showed both the lay-out of the island, and the position of all the players' locations, along with huge skull and cross-bones over Danger-Zones. He couldn't kill anyone with that!

But then he realized just how valuable a tool it was. He could go and make all those whorish popular kids pay for mocking him whenever he tried to express his knowledge of the Truth in class.

Francis had left last. He was glad for it. That meant that everyone else would be gone, and he could take his time in finding somewhere to rest.

He wasn't worried about the fact that it was a sin to kill. He believed that God would forgive his transgressions. Francis also felt that, in his way, he was doing God's will, by taking out the sinners.

So he set out to find them, the sinners. The boys he would target first. Their sins, to him anyway, always seemed so much more insulting than any, even those of Sodom and Gomorrah, because some even claimed a belief in God. Their lies were…inexcusable. And then there was the girls, those modern-day Jezebel's, tarting themselves up to impress their men, all the while intending to leave them hanging just when they need whorish women the most.

But the first person he found (not counting the corpse of Stefan) was a kid he hardly knew, Boy #17, Ian, when he passed by the boy's hiding place.

His immediate thoughts were 'run' and 'hide', but they were quickly replaced with 'attack' and 'kill'. Regardless of how little he knew, Francis knew that he MUST be a sinner…they all were.

Francis looked around for a weapon, and spied a good-sized rock at his feet. He picked it up and hurled it, without much thought of the consequences or aim. But he was such a weak person it had barely any force behind it. It hit Ian in the face, but with barely enough power to cause a slight nose-bleed. That was how pathetic Francis was.

"FUCK!" Were the first words out of Ian's mouth, "What the fuck?"

Francis stepped out of the bushes, and said, "What did you get?" At the same time he knelt down and picked up the rock again.

"Grenades." Ian said, backing away from the other boy, pulling one of them from his pocket. He knew that Francis couldn't hurt him with a rock; after all he'd already been hit by one. But he could easily have other concealed weapons.

Francis shook his head, "I don't need those." He lowered the rock. In actuality, he did _want _them, but it would be easy for Ian to go kamikaze on him, so instead of attacking, he said, "But I suggest you use them to enter God's Kingdom now. You don't want to see what happens to the people who play this game. That little faggot Stefan found that out the hard way." Francis had been most pleased to find Stefan's corpse, lying in a pool of blood. Stefan and Calin were the worst in the whole class, flaunting their utter contempt for the Lord.

"Isn't suicide a sin?" Ian said, sneering. He didn't know Francis personally, but he knew enough to know that he was a bible-thumper. From the moment he first saw him he knew it, and instantly disliked him.

Francis nodded, "But I know that God will forgive you this once. He didn't have a say in this terrible game. He wouldn't approve, so, killing yourself would be more acceptable than killing others." Inside, Francis knew it was a complete lie. God would smite him even faster than the others. But he was damned either way. At least this way he could make it painless.

And with that Francis left, leaving Ian to eventually attempt suicide, and be killed by a boy he hardly knew. Francis would never know this, but he knew that when the next report came around, Ian would be on it. He was weak.

Boy #12, Gavin was angry. Furious. It seemed…cruel that _he _should be in a Battle Royale. He had plans. Plans that one day could've stopped these things. But no…he'd been forced into one himself. If he played, he'd be a hypocrite, and a big one at that. If he didn't, he'd likely be killed. No one had ever escaped from a Battle Royale.

Sighing to himself, his weapon, an MP5 submachine, in hand, Gavin decided that the least he could do was _try _to find a way out. That meant finding help. The best people to find would be Dan and Anthony, they were the smartest, and could come up with thought out and logical ideas in seconds. Gavin began his search without resting, without reflecting and without tears. He would find a way out or die trying.

"Why did you drag me away?" Girl #2, Rebecca hissed.

"Because!" Girl #1, Meghan said, "We had to get away!"

"But what about Anthony?" Rebecca screeched, "I wanted to…I had…to wait for him." She was crying now. Meghan whimpered, and hugged the other girl.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think. I was…just…so scared…I needed you to be with me…someone to stay with…but I had to go to…I'm sorry."

"It's ok." Rebecca said, sighing. "He'll find me…he always does."

Meghan sat down and opened her bag. In it she found a large hunting knife. She was relatively happy with it. When Rebecca opened hers she swore openly, a rare thing for her. She'd been shafted…a frying-pan.

"What do we do?" Meghan asked. She wasn't a leader, never had been.

"Well," Rebecca said, "First…I've thought about this for a while. I knew about BR a long time ago, and I always figured that there has to be a way to take the collars off. Otherwise, how do they get them on and off the winner?"

"You think we should find a way to get them off?" Meghan sounded scared, "But what if they go off?"

"We'll be careful, no tugging on it, no pressure, just…examine."

Meghan shrugged. It was better than doing nothing. Meghan was just glad that she had someone to spend her last days with. She didn't want to die alone…

Boy #8, Nick, had been appalled at the death of Georgina, and had been just as appalled upon finding out his weapon was big and clunky, a chainsaw. He wanted something swift and efficient, ideally a gun, but a nice knife would've sufficed. The better to sneak up on someone. He'd decided that he deserved to win. He was attractive, he was strong, he was athletic, a real asset to the school and the country. One day he hoped to be a professional footballer, or a track runner. So if he had to kill his frankly, unworthy friends to make sure that that happened, he'd do it.

At first he struggled along with the chainsaw in hand, with it running. But he knew the noise was too loud, that it would attract others. He wasn't that dumb. And he knew he'd run out of energy soon if he kept carrying it like he was.

He tried to flick the off switch, but the poor boy's attention should have been on the path beneath him. He failed to notice the tree root sticking up in front of him. His foot caught in it.

The chainsaw fell. And Nick fell on top of it.

An instant, indescribable agony overcame him, as the jagged teeth of the saw shredded through the flesh of his torso, catching each piece and then tearing it off. Flecks of blood, skin and flesh soared through the air. Once it was done with his outer skin and flesh, Nick felt his ribs crack and splinter, blood gushing out like something out of a splatter movie. He howled in shock and fury, pushing himself to one side and off of the weapon. But the damage had been done. Looking down toward his feet, Nick felt a wave of nausea. He could feel next to him his warm, sticky innards (they weren't very _in _anymore). What had once been his well-toned chest was now a glistening, sticky mess. Jutting out from the wound, he could clearly see shattered ribs, and tiny flecks of what were once his lungs. Peering closer, as wave after wave of indescribably agonizing pain shot through his entire body, Nick thought that he could just see his still-beating heart.

It didn't beat much longer.

Boy #8, Nick, dead. 37 Remaining.

Girl #13, Sarah didn't know what to do. She never did. She was always lost in class, wondering what she was supposed to be doing. Now…she was stuck on an island, with a goddamn Glock 18 Machine-pistol in her hand, being told to kill her closest friends. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the girl standing in her path.

As she walked, Sarah kept her head pointed at the ground, staring at her feet. When another pair of black-shoe clad feet appeared in front of her she screamed, and jumped backwards, bringing up her gun.

The gun ended up pointed at a pair of thin blonde girls.

Girl #14, Madeline, and Girl #15, Jessica, had run into each other quickly. Each was searching for members of their group, like Sarah and Melissa, but, even though they hung out a lot, the two did _not _want to see each other. They fought constantly, once even coming to blows. But when they ran into each other, the two had decided to put aside their squabbles. It was beneath them, especially in a situation where their _lives _were at stake. So they had joined forces, Madeline always walking in front, as her weapon, a shovel, was the only one that had a chance of defending them. Jessica had been given a megaphone, which she might as well have thrown away. It was too light to do any damage, and she knew that using it would be tantamount to suicide.

Finally, the pair had spotted Sarah ambling along, head down. They quietly walked up to her, doing their best not to spook her.

As soon as Sarah brought up her gun, she realized who the girls were, and immediately lowered it, as she ran forward and hugged the two in a tight death-grip of relief.

"THANK GOD!" She yelled.

The trio hugged for a few minutes, before they began to discuss what they should do. There were several options, and it seemed each was as dangerous as the last.

"Why don't we go into this little town thingy that's on the map?" Sarah suggested, pointing to a location on the map which was laid out in front of them.

"Yeah," Maddy said, sarcastically, "Let's go to the most prominent point on the map." She shook her head, "If you had this idea Sarah, so will everyone else."

Sarah shook her head, "But that's a good thing, we could team-"

Maddy cut her off by saying, "That's total bull-shit Sarah." She stared at Sarah's hurt face and sighed. She hugged Sarah and said, "Regardless of how much we want to, we need to stay away from everyone. From what I remember of this law, girls always try to team up. And they've all ended up dead."

Jessica stared at her, shocked.

"You _knew _about this sick game?" She stammered, disgusted.

"I knew _of _it," Maddy said, "But it's not like I paid much attention to it. I never thought it could really happen." Maddy sat down and looked up at the sky, "I'm not the only one. Me and Anthony and Sam, we all knew. We talked about it once, with some other people."

"Oh," Jessica said, sitting down with her. She felt like a ripe fool for being one of the people that didn't know of it. It was all completely new to her. Was she really that shallow? _Did _she only care about celebrity marriages, and not about things that mattered?

"Then what do we do?" Sarah asked.

"Wait." Maddy said, sighing, "For…something."

"If we wait too long, we'll just end up dying." Jessica said, pointedly.

Maddy laughed sadly, "I don't think we need to worry about whether or not we'll die Jess. It's kinda obvious we will."

Silence followed.

37 Remain


	3. Hour 3

**©Hour 3: 37 Remaining: 3:00 pm **

Girl #7, Melissa, was astonished at what she'd learned in the last twenty minutes.

She'd found Girl #21, Elle, and had reluctantly stayed with her. Melissa had never really hung out in Elle's circle, and had at first dismissed her as an ignorant, vain ice queen. But now that she'd spent time with the girl, she had begun to see an entirely different side of her, a bright, funny and utterly charming young woman.

They talked for a long time, about everything. Eventually they came back to the Battle Royale.

"How are we going to live?" Melissa asked.

"What do you mean?" Elle questioned.

"Well, I mean," Melissa explained, "We know that this is real. Then that means in three days we'll all be dead."

Elle looked down at her feet. "Yeah. I guess it does mean that."

"What are we going to do about it?"

The two sat in silence again.

The silence was broken by a deafening clap of thunder.

Melissa screamed.

Elle giggled and ran outside, delighting as the rain beat down about her clothes and head. She'd loved the rain ever since she was a child, and even at a time like this there was no difference.

Suddenly, her head suddenly began to sting. She reached up and felt warmth right at the top of her skull. She looked at her fingers and gulped upon seeing dark, red blood.

Elle looked for the culprit, panicked that she was under attacked, when she felt another sharp pain on her collar bone. Looking up into the sky, she suddenly found herself pounded with dozens of small white objects. She dove back into the house, only to realise that what she'd been so terrified was regular old hail.

"Are you ok?" Melissa asked, helping the other girl to her feet.

"Yeah," Elle said, whimpering slightly.

"You're bleeding," Melissa said, indicating the top of Elle's head.

Elle felt the wound and made a half-smile, "I guess so," She stood up and took a look at herself in the mirror, "I better go freshen up, and get out of these wet clothes."

She grabbed the back-pack she'd brought and walked up the rickety set of stairs in the room next to the kitchen.

Upstairs was a bed-room, and the only bathroom, a dirty little thing that obviously had not been used in a while. Disgustingly, someone had left a floater in the toilet bowl. This last detail had prevented either girl from using the apparatus.

Once inside, Elle looked at her injury in the mirror. It certainly looked ugly. The dark blood had already begun to dry and was beginning to cling to her hair.

_I should probably put some anti-septic on that,_ Elle thought, _ah well, stuff it. _

She set about washing the blood out in the sink. Soon the white ceramic was stained pink, but her head was now free of the dried blood.

Seeing that her uniform was now quite wet, she stripped and pulled on the extra clothes she'd brought along 'just in case'. In actual fact she'd brought along the three-quarter jeans and boob tube to seduce Dave, her current secret crush. She knew now that it was a wasted effort to try and find him, but these clothes were much more comfortable than her wet uniform.

Just as she was done making herself look 'sexyful' as Elle liked to put it, she heard a scream from downstairs, and an enormous crack that she knew was Melissa's gun.

Boy #18, Dan, saw it over and over. The crowbar slide silently from his pack…Stu wandering carelessly through a bright forest…Stu's P22 glistening in the sun…the hooked end of the crowbar lodging itself in the hard bone of Stu's skull…

Dan had replayed the moment so many times that the images involved were now as clear as those of his family back home.

Dan hadn't run into anyone since he had killed Stu. He was becoming restless. He liked things to go quickly and efficiently, and he wanted…needed to add more to his kill tally.

As Dan walked, he suddenly felt his foot slip beneath him. He tumbled for a moment and landed sprawled in the dirt. Looking around, he realised he had fallen into a small crater. He sat up and immediately gasped. Lying in front of him was the dead body of Boy #17, Ian. He had been laid out on his back, with his hands folded over his chest.

Thinking quickly, Dan surmised that the crater had been caused by a small explosive, most likely a fragmentation grenade. He immediately searched Ian and his pack which rested next to him. In it he found four, green, pineapple shaped devices, which he recognized as classic WWII-era grenades.

He was pleased with himself. He didn't even have to kill someone to get these! Dan was also now very confident in himself. He had a handgun with plenty of ammo, and more than enough frags to take out the rest of the class.

He desperately wanted to find more of his classmates. Being in such a place upset him, and he missed his computer. He wanted to leave, A.S.A.P.

As he strolled along through the forest, he happened upon a small, decrepit house. He at first thought to ignore it, as it looked like no one had been anywhere near it for some time.

Dan was just about to pass by it when he heard a shrill scream from just inside the house.

He stood in front of her, drenched from the rain that the hail had turned to. He was panting, and he had a wild look in his eyes.

Girl #7, Melissa, backed away from him her gun held up. In his hand he held a bloodied knife and Melissa hadn't taken her eyes from it since he entered the kitchen of the dingy house.

She had been eating her bread absent-mindedly when she suddenly spotted his face staring at her through the window. She'd screamed and thrown herself back, scrambling for the table where her Desert Eagle lay.

She snatched it up and turned. As she turned she screamed again and fired her gun once in the direction of the window. The recoil for the gun was enormous and it practically flew out of her hands.

The window shattered, but Andrew had already left it and was now standing in the doorway, his hands in the air.

All that Melissa saw was that his _knife_ was in his _hand._

Andrew was terrified. He was certain made the mistake of thinking that Melissa would help him. Then he realized the problem, the knife was still in his grip. Instantly he dropped it and yelled, "I DROPPED IT! SEE I DROPPED IT!

"Where did the blood come from?" Melissa asked, shakily.

Andrew winced, and muttered, "There was an accident."

"What kind?" Melissa pressed. She could tell what the answer was going to be.

"Ian, I…accidentally…k-killed Ian." Andrew stared at his toes, feeling like a little boy who'd been scolded for sneaking cookies before tea time, but on a far greater scale.

Melissa gasped in disgust and abject horror.

Upon hearing Melissa's first scream, Elle had backed into the wall of the bathroom and trembled. Could they already be under attack?

When she screamed a second time, Elle suddenly felt herself spurred on to rush to her aid. She grabbed her tazer from next to the sink and charged down the stairs. Bursting into the kitchen she cried, "Okay, what's with all the screaming?"

Melissa looked over to her and replied quickly, "Andrew's here. He scared me…he's killed someone."

Elle squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before asking, "Who?"

"Ian." Andrew answered, before Melissa could.

Elle hissed like a cat and spat, "I was right Melissa. At least one person's bought into this fucking game!"

"No it's not like that," Andrew protested, "It was an accident!"

"Sure," Melissa said, still holding the gun up, despite its seemingly increasing weight.

Neither girl believed him, and with good reason. He didn't have a stellar reputation to begin with, and now that he was standing here, admitting to killing someone with a knife that was still bloody and very much in his possession, it was infinitely harder to trust any word that came from his mouth.

Outside, Boy #18, Daniel was approaching, grenade in hand.

Boy #14, Calin, breathed heavily as he ran through the dense forest…hunting. His prey, Boy #15, Darren, was ahead of him _somewhere_, and he aimed to find him. He had followed the trail of blood that had poured from the other boy's ruined eye.

Calin didn't think of Stefan at all as he ran. If he did…he knew…that he would stop running…he would stop running and his heart would break…he couldn't do that until it was done and Darren was dead…dead like Stefan.

Lightning suddenly cracked over-head and Calin shuddered. The rain came not too long afterwards. Calin's uniform was soaked through instantaneously. Roaring in frustration Calin began a search for some kind of shelter.

It didn't take to long to find it, a cave. He stumbled into it, slipping and sliding on the wet rocks. He sighed with relief at finally getting somewhere dry, when suddenly he saw her, Girl #6, Alana, standing in the centre of the cave's floor. Calin was about to say something when it clicked in his mind…something was amiss…Alana looked…terrified…pale…

Taking in her appearance fully, Calin spotted them…the bloodstains…all over her. She was no longer wearing her shirt, though her tie inexplicably remained.

"'Lana," Calin said, stepping cautiously towards her, his thoughts of Darren almost entirely out of mind.

"I didn't mean to…" Alana sobbed, "It was…I didn't…it was an…accid-"

"Alana, wha-" He stopped when he saw what was lying next to her.

A mere ten minutes beforehand, Alana had been feeling quite peaceful. Her stark terror had lessened, and she felt herself beginning to doze.

She was snapped out of her drowsiness at the first crackle of thunder. She stood and looked up to the sky, and the gathering blackness. She sighed…it had been so warm before…

A groan came from the bushes near the mouth of the cave. Alana gasped and slid down into the cave, snatching up her hatchet. She paused, before poking her head up over the mouth of the cave.

He staggered into view like a zombie…Boy #15, Darren, Alana's on-off (and quite violent) boyfriend. He was holding his head in his hands, and Alana could see that blood was trickling from the gaps in his fingers. His moans were indescribable.

Darren was bad news. She'd known it when he asked her out the first time…but she'd still said yes. The first time he'd hit her had been when he'd caught her talking to Angel at a party. It had been a light slap, and since then he'd never hurt her any more than that. But he'd hurt many others…many. Her friends had told her to get away from him but she'd never been able to successfully sever her ties with him. She'd decided that this time she would avoid him…he was dangerous. Even if he didn't hurt her…he'd hurt someone else.

She'd hesitated, and in that moment, he had dropped one of his hands, and managed, using his one good eye, to spot her. Immediately recognising her as his Alana, he had cried out "HELP!" and staggered toward her.

Alana stood and held out her hatchet.

"Stay away!" She shrieked, "Just…go!"

He came closer to her and reached out for help. As he reached, he removed his hand from his eye, revealing a bloody hollow, from which the remains of his optic nerve hung. He'd done his best in his agonizing stupor to stuff the cord back into his head, but all it had done was send new waves of gut-churning pain to him.

Alana wasn't good with gore. Dissecting a cow's eye in science class was bad enough but this…She breathed deep, her fear welling inside. She stepped back and released it all in the loudest scream she could muster.

Darren slipped forward, and his hand fell onto her shoulder. Alana stopped screaming, and without thinking swung. The hatchet buried itself in her boyfriend's stomach, before Alana pulled it back out. Blood spurted forth and Darren cried out.

Did that just happen? Did his girl just drive a hatchet into his stomach? It was all he could manage to think before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

Alana stared at him for a second, stunned and terrified.

"Darren," She stuttered, her eyes widening at disbelief at what she'd just done.

She knelt down and rolled him over. Reflexively, he coughed up a wad of bloody mucus, straight onto her cheek.

Alana ignored it, threw her hatchet down into the cave and grabbed her boyfriend under his armpits. Carefully, she dragged him over to the cave-opening and lowered him into the darkness.

Alana lifted his shirt and looked at the wound. It was bad, but could've been worse. She couldn't see any of his innards, so she was hoping that she hadn't stuck the hatchet in too far.

She ripped her school shirt from her chest and tore it into pieces, desperately hoping to be able to procure some make-shift bandages.

It did little to stem the flow of blood.

She'd managed to stay composed…hadn't broken down. When Calin slid into the cave, she had turned to face him, trying to stand as strongly as she could.

But when he asked what had happened…she couldn't get the words out. They had caught in her throat, and she began to splutter and mumble. Her attempts to maintain her dignity were entirely futile and she crumpled into a sobbing heap. .

Calin was torn. He wanted desperately to comfort Alana…but knowing that Darren was there made it hard. Mere seconds before his mind had been consumed with thoughts of finishing off Darren. But now he was conflicted. Darren was incapacitated not two metres away…it would be so easy for Calin to just walk over to him and choke the life out of him.

But Alana was right there...she needed someone to help

Calin so desperately wanted to comfort her, but he also desperately _needed_ to shove her aside and crush Darren's head underneath his foot.

In the end he ended up kneeling beside his friend and hugging her.

Girl #16, Alexandra lay silent in the middle of the path, her breathing quick and shallow. Above her, Boys #4 and #5, Kris and Dave, looked on, wondering what the hell they could do. They'd made make-shift bandages from their school-shirts which were ineffectual at best.

Kris knelt down beside her and gently pressed at the wound, completely unsure of what he should do.

He turned to Dave and said, pleadingly, "What do we do?"

Dave was silent.

Alex looked up at him. The searing pain that had been in her leg was now lessening to an ever-present aching. But she could feel the blood, and she knew it was still coming just as quick as ever.

With Dave not responding, Kris continued to tear at what remained of his school shirt, tears beginning to fall.

"It's okay Alex," He said, "You're gonna make it out of here!"

This prompted Alex to laugh out loud. Surprised, Kris lost his balance for a moment and fell, knocking her wound. She cried out in pain and swore loudly.

"You think," She panted, "You think I'll make it?" A half-smile flickered across her pale face, "Not likely."

"Yes, we will." Kris assured her, "We're gonna make it out!"

"You're not a very good liar Kris." She continued, gulping as the pain began to increase, "You know that this isn't going to end with us all realising how much we've grown and sailing off into the sunset. By the end of this, we'll have killed each other, or someone else will have done it to us. Simple as that."

Kris sat back, silent and stunned. Above him, Dave stood still, staring down at Alex. She stared back up at him, daring him to say something.

"We…" Dave started, darkly. Alex eyed him once more and he stopped, mid-sentence, instead changing what he was going to say. "We need to get you somewhere safer."

At that moment the rain began to fall.

Girls #13, #15 and #14, Sarah, Jessica and Maddy had pooled their resources upon their joining forces, and within an hour they had drunk six out of nine bottles of water, and eight out of twelve loaves of bread. The three were worried, and not noticing what they were doing.

They were terrified.

And now they were wet.

"THIS IS SO FUCKED UP!" Jessica screeched, kicking at a fallen tree.

The two other girls were silent.

Jessica turned back to them, and stared exasperatedly at them, before whispering, "What are we gonna do?"

Sarah had changed out of her uniform, into the tracksuit she'd brought for the 'trip', and was now doing her best to convince Maddy to help her find shelter. They'd brought it up when they noticed the oncoming storm clouds, but Maddy had been adamant.

"Come on Maddy!" Sarah cried, "If we stay out any longer we're gonna get fucking pneumonia!"

"I'd rather get fucking pneumonia than get fucking killed!" Maddy spat, her face turning the angry, flushed red it always gets when she's mad.

Jessica had done her best to quash her rising anger, but Maddy had always known how best to bring it out.

"Maddy," She said, quietly yet furiously, "Sarah is right. Staying out here will not help us at all. We need to find somewhere to stay for this storm. It's not safe out here."

Maddy stood up, _her_ anger building too, "WHERE'S SAFE, JESSICA?" She shrieked, "Where the fuck are we going to be safe?

Jessica stormed over to Maddy, and Maddy thought that she looked ready enough to hit her. They ended up almost nose to nose, trying to establish some sort of dominance. It seemed fairly evenly matched, until Sarah piped up with _her _view.

"If it's not safe anywhere," She said, nastily towards Maddy, "Why can't we be somewhere that's dry?"

Madeline glared at her.

"Fine," She said, after a moment's pause, with a defiant look on her face, "You wanna go find a nice house to spend the night? GO AHEAD!" She gestured towards the forest that surrounded them.

The other two stared at her for a moment, until Jessica finally made a move, grabbing her pack.

"Okay." She said, "We're going, aren't we Sarah?"

Sarah hesitated for a moment, but nodded.

"Get our food." Jessica snapped.

Slightly taken aback at Jessica's tone, Sarah scooped up most of the remaining food, leaving a small amount for the other girl.

"Well, we're gone." Jessica said shortly. She gave Maddy a single, venom-filled look before she stormed off into the forest.

Sarah paused a moment, and thought to herself. She stepped up to Maddy, and gave her a quick hug.

"Good luck…really." She whispered in her ear. She stepped back and smiled, and Maddy smiled back. Sarah sighed, and then grabbed her bag, following Jessica off in a random direction. Upon catching up to her, Sarah leaned over and muttered, "What a bitch."

And so, Maddy was left alone, standing in the middle of an empty campsite, soaked through to the bone.

Boys #6, #7 and #11, Jack, Tom and Oliver, and Girl #18, Felicity were all quite pleased with themselves.

The cross that they'd decided on heading towards was indeed a church, and it was just what the group had hoped for.

It was small, stone, and quite new. The front door was a huge wooden thing, which no teenager would have a hope of breaking down without some serious firepower. There was no backdoor, and there were few windows, and all of them were positioned high up on the walls although they were the traditionally huge, stained glass ones.

The four had shrieked with delight upon finding it. Jack and Oliver had run straight inside, completely forgetting the fact that they were involved in a very dangerous game, and that someone could very well be inside.

Upon entering, Tom had immediately slammed the door shut and dragged one of the pews in front of it, completely barricading them in.

"That's more like it," Tom said, "Now, Felicity-" He started, turning to the girl…only…the girl wasn't there.

Immediately, Felicity had headed up past the altar and into a small door that lead to what would've have been the priest's office. She quickly checked inside, and then opened another door. Inside was what she'd hoped for, the bathroom. She needed to relax, and she desperately wanted to have a nice, long bath. She sighed with relief…only to realise that this bathroom, actually had no bath in it whatsoever. Felicity slumped down onto the closed toilet seat, and her head fell into her hands. She'd just wanted a bath…something normal…something to take her mind of this…madness…anything.

Boy #1, Sam, shivered in the cold afternoon air, as the rain softly beat down upon him. His mind was in a state of flux. One part of it pulled one way, with one idea. For a while that plan of action would have control over the others, but eventually it would weaken, and another idea would take its place. Everything was a jumble as flashes of memories and experiences appeared inside his head…his first day of school, making friends, first kiss…all of it was bursting to be let loose.

His 'weapon' was in his hand, but he didn't expect it to be of any use. The points of the fork were blunt at best, and he couldn't see how it would protect him.

As the rain started, he'd begun to wander across the island, not really knowing where he was going, or what he was going to do when he got there.

He hadn't seen anyone as he walked…until, that was, one of his 'friends' darted out in front of him.

The rain had startled Girls #4 and #5, Melanie and Tess. The two had been focused on each other for a while, sizing up their newfound companions. As they aimlessly meandered, they were silent, throwing occasional glances towards the forest surrounding them, but mostly 'subtly' observing the other.

When the rain and thunder came, the silence and tense stillness had been broken. Both girls gasped in surprise and squealed as their uniforms became drenched. The two darted through the forest, before they eventually crawled under a fallen tree-trunk for cover.

They panted as they removed their heavy and now stinking wet school blazers and made sure their food supply wasn't getting soaked.

When they were settled for a few moments, the silence returned. The girls looked at each other…all was still.

A smile suddenly stretched across Tess' face. Another mimicked Tess' on Melanie's face. The two girls burst into laughter, their fears and worries momentarily gone.

"Well this is fun." Girl #12, Sophie, muttered, staring out at the wall of rain and hail that had appeared.

"I know the feeling." Girl #3, Stephanie, said.

The girls had noticed the rain's approach early, and had compensated by creating a make-shift shelter. Neither wanted to go near the buildings on the island, as they would undoubtedly be hotspots for activity, so they had headed away from them all. Upon seeing the gathering storm clouds, they leapt into action. They found a large sheet of corrugated iron abandoned by one of the pathways. As the rain began to spit down on them, they had held it above their heads as they searched for an area to rest. They found a ditch near to where they had stopped, and laid the iron sheet over the top of it, forming a cosy refuge for the pair.

Now, the two sat in dirt, watching as a trickle of water wound its way into the shelter from one side, and then out the other.

"How could this be happening?" Sophie moaned, kicking at the dirt by her feet, "This…this is just…"

"Murder." Stephanie whispered.

Boy #10, Alexander, had not made a sound in the last hour. He'd found a shed containing a single cot and had immediately sat down on it, back to the wall.

He'd been pleased with his weapon, but he never thought he would need it. He couldn't believe that this game could really be allowed, let alone played by a bunch of fifteen year olds.

But he knew it was real. He'd found the body of Boy #16, Stu, being slowly devoured by flies. He'd then found a crater, and the body of Boy #17, Ian, who's now cold guts spilled out beneath it.

Alex could hardly believe it. He couldn't believe his classmates, the people he saw nearly everyday could kill one another. And he couldn't cope with how much blood there'd been. It had been everywhere, covering each of them. His mind had since played tricks with him, made him remember more blood than there was, but it still seemed real to him. The gore, the pain, the death…

He didn't want it to happen to him. He didn't want to spend his last moments in agony, or to spend three days cowering in a shed waiting for death to claim him at any moment. He wanted to be in control of it. He wanted to make sure it was…clean.

And so, after much thought, he'd brought the gun up to his head, as he sat on the cot. He placed the barrel in between his teeth, closed his eyes.

His finger twitched, froze, and then pulled the trigger.

Girl #8, Zoe, had been horrified at Boy #18's killing of Boy #16, but she'd done her best (and rather unsuccessfully) to put it into the back of her mind. She'd concentrated on finding her friends. She was quietly confident they'd all escape, despite the brutal murders that had occurred…perhaps overly confident…

Zoe knew she'd never have to see someone die again. She was wrong.

As Boy #10 fired the gun, Zoe passed the shack in which he had hidden himself.

The echoing bang resounded in her ears. It was loud, but it didn't mask the sound of a window being obliterated behind her. She turned and stared at the shack from where the noise had come from. Blood dripped from its sill.

Zoe didn't scream.

She just began to cry. She sank to her knees and sobbed.

Boy #10, Alexander, dead.

Boy #2, Anthony, was usually a very patient person. He could handle waiting for things he wanted, people he wanted to see, things he wanted to do. But thrust into a 'fight for your life' situation in which he potentially was going to have to kill others to protect himself or someone else, he found his patience to be not quite what it used to be.

Boy #9, Ben, was panicked about everything. He was squeezing one hand with the other, and had begun to ramble on about what they were going to do, and his wild theories about how to get out, and also his thoughts on who was going to be a danger to them. He seemed to think the most dangerous people would oddly enough be the girls. He blabbered on and on about how they were untrustworthy and dangerous to be around in a scenario like the one they were in.

When the first echoes of thunder reached them, Ben had become even more worried, moaning and grunting. His pace quickened, and his head darted every which way, scanning for any sign of danger.

Anthony gritted his teeth and continued onward, all the while his thoughts were the same.

_Bec…where are you…find me…Bec…where are you…find me… _

Boy #12, Gavin, ducked lower as he cautiously skirted around the outside of the bunker where the game had begun. His search had been fruitless, and so he had decided that rather than elaborately planning, he was going to go on instinct. He dashed back through the forest to the bunker, and was now steadying himself to leap into the building.

He ever so slowly crept up to the door that only an hour and forty minutes ago he'd left. He breathed deeply as he stood, back flattened against the outer wall, the door right next to him.

Spinning to the side, Gavin brought up his MP5 submachine gun and pointed it down the corridor that he'd exited from. The rack that the bags had sat on was still there he discovered, as he made his way down the hall. When he reached the door to the classroom in which they'd woken up he took another breath, before jumping into the room.

The classroom was empty. The only thing that remained was Georgina's corpse, crumpled in the centre of the room. The nausea inducing smell of dead flesh reached Gavin's nostrils, and he turned back to the hallway and retched.

"GOD DAMN IT!" He cried.

Leech laughed from the control room of the Battle Royale. Her feet were perched on a coffee table in front of her, while she swang back and forth on a red, cushioned swivel seat. On the screen in front of her was security camera footage of Gavin's search. She'd known that _someone_ would come back.

Girl #2 and Girl #3, Meghan and Rebecca, had followed through on their idea to defeat the collars.

Each girl had taken it in turns to examine the others' device and neither found anything.

"Damn, these fuckers aren't coming off." Rebecca hissed, in a rare moment of unrepressed profanity.

Meghan sat, silently, absent-mindedly fingering the collar around her neck. Rebecca continued to rant on and on about what a stupid idea it was to force children to kill each other for the sake of a terrified nation.

As the rain fell, Meghan stared off into spacing, processing everything Bec said. However, her mind took it in a different way. She'd begun to see the Battle Royale in a completely different light. Her terror and fear had begun to take control.

Boy #21, Francis, had seen the rain coming, and acted accordingly, by slipping underneath a large tree with low-hanging branches. He sat cross-legged in the dirt, and watched as the water began to pour. He had his GPS-Locator next to him, and he kept an eye on it, as he brought his hands together and prayed.

Girl #17, June, was feeling uncomfortable. In her entire time at Ballarat & Clarendon College, she'd never said more than a few sentences to Boy #20, Angel, but here he was, sitting next to her on the felled tree, as the rain fell. He'd spent the last hour questioning her about her past and family. She'd told him about her sisters in Thailand, as well as her younger sister Jean who was in a lower year at BCC. She mentioned how she had been terrified when on a school hike, Sam had convinced her that drop bears were waiting to drop down and mangle any Asian person that wandered too close to their tree. She really felt like she had told him her life story, and yet he had said barely anything.

The pair sat silently for a moment. June looked over at Angel and smiled. Despite the situation and everything that had and was happening, he was still an incredibly attractive boy.

Suddenly, Angel threw himself towards her. June screamed, terrified. Terrified, that was, until his lips locked with hers. He put an arm around her and drew her close. Stunned, June sat there, her lips still pressed against his. He stared into her wide eyes and continued kissing her.

_He likes me _

June pushed him away and whispered, "What…"

He edged closer, and brushed a strand of her hair off her face, saying, "You're beautiful, June."

_What does he want from me… _

Girls #9 and #11, Rachael and Chloe were an optimistic pair. They always did their best to see the best in someone, and were more than willing to give out third and fourth chances. When something bad happened, they'd always try to make it into a positive.

Now, trapped in a Battle Royale, the two had convinced themselves that if the 41 students worked together they could find a way to escape from the government's clutches and make it to somewhere safe. They were confident that the other kids wouldn't start attacking each other, and that together they would all be safe.

"Yeah, we just have to get everyone communicating." Rachael said, smiling broadly.

Chloe nodded, "Exactly, if we all joined together they couldn't just KILL us all, right?"

Next to them, Girl #19, Emma, sat, shaking her head slightly. Her two companions didn't get it. Emma had known enough about foreign Battle Royale's to know that in _every_ competition _someone_ would attempt to join forces with others and overthrow the system. And not once, in over twenty years of Battle Royale had they ever succeeded. Emma knew that it really was kill or be killed, simple as that.

Girl #20, Veronica, was grateful for one thing in this game. She'd been searching for an hour when she found just what she was looking for. A small hill had appeared in front of her, and on top of it was a small hut. She had dashed into it, and finding it empty, sank down into a chair and sighed with relief.

Literally the moment she had sat down, a crack of thunder had echoed across the island, and rain began to fall. Smiling broadly at her good timing, Veronica pulled her chair up to a window. It was a perfect vantage point from which to use her supplied weapon.

Veronica sat there for twenty minutes, finger ready on the trigger. No one came.

Girl #7, Melissa's arm ached from holding the gun up. But she wasn't going to put it down. Not until she knew she was safe. Girl #21, Elle, did the same, keeping her tazer pointed at Andrew's chest.

Boy #19, Andrew was terrified of these girls. He needed a way to prove to them he wasn't a threat, to prove that he wasn't a danger to anyone. But on the inside he was worried that he _was _a danger, that he had in fact killed Ian on purpose, without realizing. It ate at his insides. Was it really an accident? Could he have done more to save him?

Andrew never found an answer to the question, and never managed to prove his innocence.

Instead, Boy #18, Dan, who had been slowly circling the house and creeping ever closer, snapped a branch underfoot.

Melissa squeaked and whirled around, almost taking Elle out as she swung the clunky Desert Eagle around.

Andrew dove for his switch-blade which rested on the table. Elle hissed at him and kicked at him, connecting with one of his ribs. He gasped, but managed to get the knife into his hands.

It was at that moment that the single window in the kitchen shattered. A small ball landed on the table and bounced off the edge, into the far edge of the room, behind the trio.

Andrew gasped, his mind flashing back to the incident with Ian.

"GO!" He cried, pushing Elle and Melissa in the direction of the living room.

They had only gone three steps when the grenade detonated, sending shrapnel upwards into the roof. The shockwave knocked the three to the floor, Elle smashing through a coffee table.

Dan raced inside the house, P22 in hand. He fired off a few shots randomly before he began a quick scan of the building for his quarry.

He found nothing.

Outside, Elle, Melissa and Andrew panted as they sprinted through the trees, trying to put as much distance between them and their attacker as possible. Elle's precious clothes had been shredded by the impact with the table, and her wrists and face were bleeding slightly, but she was otherwise fine. Melissa was dazed, and Andrew's arm had been grazed by what he thought might have been a rusted fry-pan, but they too were none the worse for wear.

Boy #3, Jonathon, sighed, wearily. He had begun a slow search for his friends that he was now beginning to think was a bad idea. The silence that surrounded him was eerie and chilling. He'd thought that he'd done the right thing by setting out to find someone to be with, but now he got the feeling that chances were, they didn't want to see him.

When he'd left, he'd gone north, and ended up quite a long way away from the starting point. However, his fear of this lonely, seemingly endless island had begun to eat at him.

So, at around the start of the third hour, he'd turned and started back towards the bunker he'd left. As he walked, he kept a sharp eye out for his friends, but in the end, he'd ended up passing the bunker and was again in deep forest. He'd hoped to find some stragglers but to no avail. It was then that the thought occurred to him that if one was playing, finding everyone by the end of the three days would be a difficult feat. He hadn't seen ONE person, let alone the rest of the class.

Jonathon kept walking, his defences unconsciously lowering. His mental barriers broke down, and the thoughts he'd done his best to keep at bay were creeping in.

He thought he'd die and his body would never be recovered, and it would just rot in some distant corner of this hell-hole.

He thought he'd die and his friends would never know.

He thought he'd die.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Jonathon stopped, dropping his bag to the ground. He hadn't peed since he'd arrived on the island, and thought that this was as good a time as any to relieve himself. He fumbled with his zip for a moment, when he got the sudden, hair-raising feeling that someone was watching him. He'd felt it two times before and each time he'd been right. The first time was when he was engrossed in a somewhat inappropriate television show on SBS, and realized his sister was behind him. The second was when he was playing _Master of Orion 3_ on his laptop during Math and the teacher arrived. Now the third had arrived, and it felt all the more sinister.

He whirled around, stepping towards his pack where he had left his assigned weapon, the nail-gun.

"Oh," He gasped, "Shit, it's you!"

Boy #1, Sam smiled, "Yes," He said, "It is me."

Jonathon sensed something strange. Sam's smile seemed, off, somehow. Fake. Evil. And he wasn't standing right. He was too straight. Normally, if he was just standing and waiting, like he seemed to be, a hand would be on his hip, which would be thrust out to one-side in an effeminate pose. But now, he was standing straight, hands behind him, with that…_grin_ on his face. Leering at him…

He ignored it as best he could, and sat down. He opened his pack and took out one of the water bottles out.

Behind him, Sam approached, his fork held behind his back.

"What weapon did you get?" Jonathon asked, pulling his nail-gun from his bag and displaying it.

Sam stopped, and pulled his fork out from behind him, staring at it nonchalantly, like it was all some cosmic joke.

Jon stared at it too, stunned.

"You got a fork." He said, bluntly. The two boys gazed at the fork, before both began to laugh, almost uncontrollably. It was the kind of thing the two had laughed about at school…something that felt like years ago.

After a moment Jonathon fell silent, but Sam did not. He continued to laugh, and laugh and laugh. He couldn't stop. Not the right kind of laugh, Jonathon knew. It was forced, and unpleasant, and even the tears in Sam's eyes were obviously manufactured.

Sam's grip tightened on the fork.

A moment later, Jonathon gasped. He brought his hand up to his throat, and felt the cold metal of Sam's weapon, and the warm liquid that was his blood.

Sam stared down at his friend, his grin still there. He'd rushed over in a split second and rammed the fork upwards into the bottom of Jonathon's jaw, forcing the four prongs up through his tongue and into the roof of his mouth, pinning his tasting organ to it. The boy squealed as blood simultaneously poured from his mouth and gurgled down his throat, splashing it all over Sam's chest. Sam's grin didn't break as he narrowed his eyes in concentration, and began pressing the fork in as far as he possibly could. He could hear weak bone cracking and shattering, as the utensil worked its way up through the boy's skull.

Jonathon fell backwards. He cried out in pain, as he groped for something to hold onto, to squeeze to lessen the pain.

But he found nothing. Instead, all he found was dust. He writhed in agony, flopping about like a dying fish, screaming.

Sam watched this tableau with, of all things, amusement. Jonathon's thrashings reminded him of Darryl Hannah's struggles in both _Blade Runner _and _Kill Bill Vol II. _

He knew that what he had done would not kill the boy, but Sam was intrigued to find that he was enjoying this. However, the boy's pain began to tire him. As such, he threw one leg over Jon's chest and reached over to where Jon had dropped the nail-gun. Sam dragged it towards them, and pressed it to Jon's ear, before making sure that he was looking at him.

The boy's eyes were wide and tear-filled. He was still screaming out in pain, and as he realised what Sam was doing her began to thrash about with even more vigour.

"Sssssh!" Sam whispered, "It's okay, it's all fine."

He pulled the nail-gun's trigger twice. With a hiss of gas, the gun fired two nails into the boys head, penetrating through Jon's ear and burying themselves in his brain. He jerked for a moment, before lying still, his eyes freezing in their sockets and blood trickling from his ear.

Sam stood up and looked down at himself. He was quite literally coated in Jonathon's blood. Sam smiled, and stared at the dead body in front of him for quite a while, soaking it all in.

When he finally left his friend's body, he left the fork, sticking sickeningly from the boy's head. He was not disturbed by the blood, or the torn muscle tendons, or the spastic jerking of the corpse.

He just smiled slightly, as he turned on his heel and walked off into the forest.

Boy #3, Jonathon, dead.

35 Remain


	4. Hour 4

**©Hour 4: 35 Remaining- 4:00 pm **

Boy #19, Andrew and Girls #7 and #21, Melissa and Elle, darted through the trees, not really paying attention to where they were going. Eventually the three of them slowed to a stop, panting.

"Who the fuck was that?" Andrew panted, sliding down a tree.

Both girls shook their heads.

"Look what he did to my clothes!" Elle whimpered, tugging at her shirt.

Melissa stared at Elle and smirked, "Can we just stop and marvel at your _fabulous_ lack of priorities?"

Back at the now hollowed out house, Boy #18, Dan, began to eat what little remained of his bread.

He wasn't concerned however. He knew he'd kill plenty more people, and they'd have plenty of food. He was confident of it.

Boy #15, Darren, could barely breathe. His gaping chest wound smelled foul, and flies were randomly landing on him and pecking at the flesh.

Girl #6, Alana, was tending to him, but she didn't know anywhere near enough about medicine to help.

Boy #14, Calin stared at Darren. He'd stared for the better part of an hour. His rage had been building, and building, and every time Darren groaned Calin just felt the impulse to leap over and jam his pen into the other boy's penis.

But Alana distracted him. Her tears were real, and she was absolutely distraught at what she had done. Her breath was coming in hitched sobs, and she was pacing the cave's floor, rubbing her hands as if to clean the blood from them.

"Sit down!" Calin cried, once his impatience finally boiled over into action. He grabbed her arm and pulled her down onto the rock on which he sat. She fell silently, and stared at her prone boyfriend.

"Oh Jesus, Calin…look what I've done!" She whispered, "He came to me…looked for me…and I…"

For a moment Calin forgot all about Stefan. He forgot about Darren and the vengeance that he was yet to reap. All he could see was a frail, fragile, _terrified_ girl, just as vulnerable and scared as he was.

Boy #21, Francis was a patient person. He always had been, ever since he was a child. While all his sisters could barely stand due to their excitement at Christmas, he sat in the corner and read his Bible.

While the kids at school stared at the clock on the last day before summer vacation began, he continued with his schoolwork.

And while the other killers of the 2005 Battle Royale hunted down their quarry, Francis sat on a log, staring at his GPS locator.

He'd noticed that at first the dots that told him where his targets were had moved a lot, but, within the last two hours, had begun to settle in one spot, as the teenagers found their hiding places.

There were several relatively large clumps. There were two groups of three that he could see, and a lot of pairs, as well as a few people who were on their own.

Francis had just begun to entertain himself by trying to guess who each dot was when he realized several of them were getting closer and closer towards him, at an astonishing speed.

Boys #4 and #5, Dave and Kris had been floored when they'd discovered the banged up Volkswagen van, not twenty metres from where they had accidentally shot Girl #16, Alexandra. It had been parked next to a small concrete building, the door to which had a bright yellow 'High Voltage' sign on it.

Immediately, they'd checked the van for keys. Their excitement increased ten-fold when they found the single key hanging from the ignition slot.

Dave started the vehicle while Kris returned to the make-shift shelter where they had left the now sleeping Alexandra. He woke her, carefully, and put one of her arms around his shoulders. As he dragged her towards the van, he'd muttered words of encouragement, while she cried out in agony.

Dave helped lift her into the van, before the two boys took their places in the front seats.

"What the hell are we going to do with her?" Kris hissed in Dave's ear.

Dave pushed him away, "I have an idea."

Dave reached over to the dashboard where he had dropped his map. He picked it up and pointed nonchalantly towards a small red cross.

"There," He said, forcefully, "That'll be a medical centre or something."

Kris stared at it for a moment. Then he looked up at Dave. He was beginning to feel that something was up. Dave was being quiet, and whenever he said something it seemed to be either completely indifferently or increasingly angrily.

"Okay, whatever." He said, sitting back in his chair.

"What?" Kris said, starting the van again.

"Nothing." Kris muttered.

Slowly, the van began to roll. Soon it was at a steady speed of twenty-five kilometres an hour.

"Shouldn't push it too much." Dave said randomly. Kris shifted in his seat. He thought the same, the van was undeniably rusted. At the same time, however, he hated the idea of slowly meandering across the island.

The van slowed as it turned down a small dirt road which _apparently_ would take them straight to the medical centre. The dirt on the road had turned to mud from the rain that still poured, and Dave was finding that the van's rear liked to slide out to the side without warning. He slowed even more.

Suddenly, out of the rainy mist a figure appeared in the middle of the road. Dave swore and braked quickly. The van's wheels caught in the sloppy mud and brought it to a stop a metre or so from the figure.

Francis felt a buzz he'd never felt before, as he slowly made his way up to the braked van, rain falling about him, creating dazzling imagery that would make even Hitchcock proud.

Kris kicked open the door of the van and jumped to the ground.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He yelled, preparing to thoroughly pound whoever it was, boy or girl.

Francis stopped, and Kris did too as soon as he saw the tears streaming from Francis's eyes.

"Shit man…what happened?" Kris asked.

Francis had planned this in advance. He began a long, tearful and utterly false story of how he did his best to prevent the suicide of his _close _friend, Ian. He talked about how he pleaded with Ian, begged him to think of an alternative, and about how terrified how he had been since Ian had killed himself. Kris fell for it, hook, line and sinker.

"Where are you going, anyway?" Francis asked, once the story was finished.

"Oh," Kris looked at his feet, "We had an…accident." It was the first time he'd admitted to it verbally.

Kris told the other boy of how he and Dave had inadvertently shot Alexandra. Back in the second hour.

"We're taking her to this hospital doohickie thing here." He finished, pointing at the map.

Francis nodded, and paused, before he asked, "Do you mind if I come?"

"Of course not." Kris said, and he motioned for Francis to get into the vehicle.

The lying boy smiled.

Waiting was not Girl #20, Veronica's style. She liked things to be done with quick. When she waxed her legs, she'd pull off the strip as soon as she could, and it was the same here. The rest of her class was the hair, and she was preparing to pull the strip.

Smiling evilly, she found that the strip was finally ready.

Girls #4 and #5, Melanie and Tess, had just strolled into the line of sight of her sniper rifle.

Immediately, Veronica flung herself down onto the floor of the balcony where she had taken cover. She cocked the rifle and aimed.

The cross-hairs of her scope fell directly onto the frowning face of Melanie.

Veronica grinned a wide, toothy smile as she yanked on the rifle's trigger.

But her glee turned to rage as soon as the bullet left the chamber. She hadn't expected the recoil of the gun to be as big as it was. The rifle almost came out of her hands, and the noise it produced made her feel like her ears were bleeding.

Straight away, Veronica knew she had missed, so she grabbed the sniper rifle from the ground and attempted to set up for a second shot.

But once the gun was in place, the two other girls had vanished.

"SHIT!" She screamed.

Girls #4 and #5 had been having a relatively quiet and distinctly awkward walk for the last hour or so, when, all of a sudden, a huge crack deafened both of them.

Melanie felt something whir past her ear and she knew she was being shot at.

Tess on the other hand whirled around on the spot, searching for the sound of the noise.

"Get down!" Melanie yelled, knocking her companion into the trees to their left.

The two fell, scraping almost every one of their limbs down to the last layer of skin.

They lay, panting for a moment, but still. They didn't move until they heard their attacker shriek out a profanity.

"Holy fuck." Both of them said.

Girl #17, June and Boy #20, Angel, were now back in the same position that they had been in to begin with. They both sat, side by side, in a distinct silence that June found to be even more unsettling than the endless personal questions.

She looked sideways at Angel, trying to figure out what his intentions were, but he was just sitting there, staring straight ahead.

She opened her mouth and was about to ask him about it when there was a sudden crashing from the undergrowth behind them.

June shrieked and bolted from underneath the tree. Angel whirled around and lifted up one of his Molotov's.

The tree and bushes shook violently for a moment, and Angel had a sudden flashback to the movie _Jurassic__ Park_. He stepped in front of June protectively. Terrified, June shoved one of her sai into his hands to defend them both.

There was silence for a moment.

Suddenly, the bushes parted and two girls spilled out onto the floor in front of them. They struggled for a moment, before raising their heads.

"JUNE!" Girl #13, Sarah cried.

"Keck?" June said, puzzled.

"Yes! Oh my God!" Sarah stumbled to her feet and jumped upon June, hugging her tightly.

"Hey, June." Girl #15, Jessica said, as she too stood up.

June was stunned. She hadn't really expected to run into anyone else. And here were two of her best friends. Everything was going to be alright now…June _knew_ it.

Boys #6, #7 and #11, Jack, Tom and Oliver, had stationed themselves in different places around the church.

Jack stood just inside the front door, Tom sat nearest the biggest of the stained glass windows and Ollie crouched on the decrepit balcony that watched over where the congregation would have sat.

Girl #18, Felicity sat on the steps of the altar, flipping through an old issue of _Cosmopolitan. _Her crossbow lay next to her. Jack had asked if he could hang on to it, so he could defend them all better, but Felicity didn't want to give it up.

The boys had swapped their weapons. Jack, who'd taken the only entrance, took the most powerful weapon, the axe, while Tom took what they considered the next best, the police baton. Ollie had then been relegated to the stake.

After an hour of silence, Tom walked over to Jack and whispered, "You reckon we should make her do something?"

Jack peered over Tom's shoulder at Felicity and thought.

"What the hell _can _she do?" He said, finally, "Frankly, having all three of us stationed like this is ridiculous. There's only one way in, and we only really need one lookout."

"THAT'S RIGHT!" Ollie called, from up on the balcony.

Tom nodded in agreement. They discussed it for a moment, before Ollie accepted the first duty of official guard.

Jack and Tom walked back over to Felicity and sat down on either side.

She said nothing, and merely flipped the page of her magazine.

"So," Jack said, starting conversation, "Still got a hand on that crossbow?"

Felicity stopped, and smiled, "Yes, Jack." Her grip tightened on the handle of the weapon, "And it's staying there."

"Don't you trust us?" Tom inquired.

Felicity paused, and looked up at the crucifix that towered above her.

"I," She started, "I don't trust anybody."

Girl #8, Zoe hadn't moved since it had happened. Alex's blood was now dry on the window-sill next to her.

Her body had shut down on her. All of her functions were in shock. She couldn't see anything, couldn't feel or hear anything.

She didn't even move when she heard the twigs snap behind her.

Boy #18, Dan's, heart was pumping. He'd snuck up on Zoe easily, but at the last possible second he'd stepped on a dead branch.

However, to his surprise, she didn't turn.

He edged closer, and placed the barrel of the P22 at the back of her head.

Zoe did nothing except cry.

Dan found it so easy. The others had gotten away, but this one wouldn't. She was prepared to go with dignity.

He pulled the trigger.

But no bullet fired.

"What the hell?" He hissed.

As soon as she heard the trigger click, Zoe bolted, running blindly into the dense scrub to her left. The soft 'click' had roused her from her state of shock, and now spurred her to run.

Dan shouted out and tried to follow, but tripped after only a few meters. Athletics was not his forte at all.

"FUCK!" He shrieked, pounding at the ground with his fist. He stared at the gun, unable to see what happened. And then he saw it. In his nerdish idiocy he'd put the gun on 'safety' while he was eating. Of _course _it didn't work! "FUCK!" He repeated.

"I think the rain has stopped." Girl #12, Sophie, said, putting her hand out from underneath the iron roof.

Girl #3, Stephanie, nodded enthusiastically and followed the other girl out into the open.

"Still a lot of clouds." Stephanie said, squinting up into the sky, "But damn, the sun is bright."

"Reckon we'll see a rainbow?" Sophie asked, grinning.

"Maybe."

The two girls smiled…and then exploded into gales of laughter. For some reason, the idea of being excited at the potential for a rainbow had sent them into hysterics. The simplistic peacefulness of it had broken some of the tension that had been making any conversation difficult.

They held one another up as they stood and laughed in the muddy ditch. They giggled and guffawed, until a burst of thunderous gunfire silenced them.

Neither bothered screaming. Instantly they both bolted, Sophie backtracking towards the beach and Stephanie continuing northward.

As she ran, Stephanie slipped as she ran past a tree as she dove into the forest. Her supplied bag swung around her and she almost dropped it. She didn't realize that her assigned weapon, an UZI had slipped from her shoulder.

Satisfied that the two girls had gone, Gavin jumped down into their shelter. He hadn't been trying to kill them, but he'd decided that the best thing to do was keep others away from him until he had figured out what to do in this situation.

The shelter was simple but effective. Gavin was almost proud of the two girls. He was about to leave when he felt his foot clunk into something on the ground. He looked down and smiled.

Lying at his feet was the weapon Stephanie had dropped, an UZI.

"I don't think she's coming." Girl #11, Chloe, sighed.

Girl #9, Rachael, sagged depressingly, "Where could she be?"

Zoe STILL hadn't shown up. They were in the 4th hour of a deadly situation and Zoe hadn't kept a promise, a rare thing indeed. Neither of them dared to think that she was dead. They merely hoped she'd joined another group, and had forgotten to find them.

Chloe had wedged her weapon, a plank of wood, in between two trees to make a make-shift seat, and Rachael was using her ice-pick to carve her name in the dirt.

Emma was the only one with her mind still on the game. She'd figured out the shot-gun easily, and she now had it perched on her right shoulder. _She_ had taken into consideration the potential of Zoe's death. They'd only know when they arrived at the sixth hour and heard the first announcement.

"I think we should move." She said, all of a sudden.

"What?" Chloe said, startled.

Emma had been mulling it over and had decided on an appropriate course of action. First, she had to move the girls.

"This place, it's open." Emma explained, "I think we should go to this school thingy the map has. It's pretty close."

The two other girls merely shrugged, and grabbed their packs. Their energy and desire for a peaceful solution was beginning to slip away.

Girls #1 and #2, Meghan and Rebecca, were still fuming over their failed attempt to remove their explosive collars.

Sitting in mud, still wet from the previous rain, each girl began to brood.

Meghan's mind kept wandering to her family. They were tight-knit, and just thinking of what they'd have done upon finding out about this barbaric game made her shudder. Meghan knew that anyone who stood up to the Battle Royale was dealt with ruthlessly.

Rebecca was thinking about Anthony. She hadn't spoken to him since they'd arrived on the island, and she wanted to know if he was okay. Regardless what anyone said about their young age or other considerations, she really did love him.

Eventually, she'd thought about it so much she _had _to do something.

"I've gotta go." She said, getting up and grabbing her pack, including her great asset, the frying pan.

"What do you mean?" Meghan asked, startled.

"I have to find Tony." She said.

Meghan looked like she was about to say something, but held it back.

"Are, are you just going to leave me?" Meghan whimpered. Her face was terrified.

"No," Rebecca said, "You can come, definitely."

Meghan made a feeble attempt at a smile, and the two set off.

Across the island, Boy #2, Anthony, had been thinking the same. Bec's shining face smiled at him from a sea of darkness. She was a beacon…and he had to find it.

But unlike Rebecca, he didn't tell Ben he could come. He merely grabbed his bag and began to stumble through the forest.

Ben had called out in protest, but done nothing more. He simply sat and stared at the point where the forest had swallowed up his friend. Something caught in his throat and bent down and vomited.

The pair had stopped on the shore of the island and now Ben sat and stared out across the ocean.

He was now alone, and he would be until he died.

Girl #14, Madeline, was also alone. She had indeed stayed where her group had split, and was now sulkily bashing her weapon, a shovel, into a tree. She didn't like to be alone, especially during a storm. Now that the rain had stopped, she had found that she didn't feel any better.

"Fucking Sarah," She hissed, as she slammed it into one of the tree's branches. She yanked it out and did it again, "Fucking Jess!"

For a split second she could feel tears coming, but that moment passed, and was replaced by an intense anger.

Maddy dropped the shovel and screeched into the canopy of foliage above her.

For a moment there was silence, punctuated only by the calls of frightened birds.

Maddy turned to go back to pounding the tree and screamed again, this time in surprise.

Standing before her was Boy #1, Sam.

"Hello Maddy." He said, quietly.

For a moment Maddy was relieved to see someone, especially a friend, but that relief was immediately washed away with a wave of terror.

Staining Sam's white school shirt were splashes of crimson blood. In fact, it looked more like the shirt had been red and had white spilled on it, versus being white and having blood on it.

"Fuck…" She whispered.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, knowing full well what the matter was.

Maddy stared at him for a second longer, before she bolted to her right.

Sam laughed and brought the nail-gun up. He fired two shots, which missed, both going too far to the left and slamming into the tree Maddy had just been mangling.

Maddy was gone, but Sam continued to laugh, maniacally.

Maddy had left all her food and her only weapon.

As Sam went through her pack, he pulled out something he found very interesting, Madeline's Ventolin…

35 Remain


	5. Hour 5

**©Hour 5: 35 Remaining- 5:00 pm **

Girl #14, Maddy, hadn't stopped running since she saw him. She would have run a kilometre by the time she stopped. If she'd had a choice she'd have run right across the island, into the ocean and across the water to the mainland.

That being so, she didn't stop, so much as trip. Her foot slipped on a mossy rock, which sent her tumbling into the icy water of a large, dirty puddle. She floundered for a moment, before she finally got herself out of the water.

She laid on her back at the edge of the puddle, listening to the night air. That's when she noticed her breathing. It was harsh and erratic. Her breath wasn't coming easy, it was a battle to even get one gulp of air. She dug in her pockets for her Ventolin.

It was gone.

Back at Maddy's original camp, Boy #1, Sam, was no longer laughing. He was breathing, deeply, waiting for the right time to begin the hunt again. He twiddled her Ventolin in his hand.

Boy #21, Francis sat in silent prayer, as the van in which he, Boys #4 & #5, Dave and Kris, and Girl #16, Alexandra, continued its way towards the medical facility.

Alex, despite her injury, was on guard. The sudden appearance of Francis had startled her, and she had a strange feeling in her gut that she couldn't trust him. It was even worse than the feeling she'd gotten from Dave.

Up in the front seats, Dave and Kris were trying to be their usual selves, albeit, slightly more subdued.

The rain had returned, though not to the strength it had been over the last few hours. It was really just a soft pitter-patter.

The droplets of water, however, were slowly clouding the windshield, and Dave was having a hard time seeing through it. The van's windscreen wipers were of no use, barely making it five inches up the windshield. After ten minutes of trying to see through a now opaque piece of glass, Dave sighed and brought the vehicle to a stop.

Alex, upon feeling the van's stopping, propped herself up to see what was going on. The dull pain in her leg flashed and she grimaced.

"Why have we stopped?" She asked.

"I can't see a fucking thing." Dave said, turning off the engine and opening his door, "I'm going to take a slash," He added, before jumping out of the van into the mud

"Me too," Kris said, jumping out the other side, leaving Francis and Alex alone.

Alex's stomach twisted, and Francis' heart jumped.

Both had noticed that Dave had left his sickles resting on his seat.

Alex's grip tightened on her SPAS.

Girl #2, Rebecca, panted as she stumbled through the dense shrubs. She'd just run for at _least _a kilometre after she'd caught a glimpse of what was left of Boy #8, Nick. All that gore, all that stench, and all that death had sent her running.

As she stopped, she tripped and fell, sprawling into the mud.

"Shit," She groaned.

She made no move to get up, and just lay still, face in the ground, her mind going a mile a minute. She'd only seen it for a second, but that had been all she needed. The flash of red on his chest and she _knew_ what had happened and she had run.

Her body hurt, but then _he _flashed across her thoughts, compelling her onward.

"Anthony," She whispered.

"Rebecca! Wait up!" Girl #1, Meghan, shouted from twenty metres back.

"Anthony…" She whispered again.

Boy #21, Francis, and Girl #18, Alex, both stared at each other.

Francis smirked. He knew that Alex knew the truth about him. That didn't matter. All that matters is that the fools Dave and Kris had left a defenceless girl in a van with a wannabe murderer.

Alex sensed his move a moment before he made it. As he darted over the front seats to grab one of the two boys' weapons, Alex swung her shotgun around and smashed it into his back. He cried out in pain and he slumped to the bottom of the van. Alex smiled. It had been easy.

Suddenly, he darted forward, snatching a sickle. He rolled over and slashed at Alex's throat. She pushed herself backwards onto the floor of the van, crushing her already injured leg.

She cried out for help, scrambling further back, as Francis leapt at her, bringing the sickle swishing down.

Alex ducked at the last second, and the blade embedded itself in the metal of the van, rather than her head. She took this split moment as a chance to attack, and brought her fist back, slamming it into the side of Francis' head. He fell back, yelping in pain. He'd never been punched before.

Alex turned and fumbled with the handle to the door. She could see in her peripheral vision that Francis was about to swing again. The handle clicked and she threw the door open and let herself fall from the van. As she slid from the van, she heard a dull clank from just behind her as Francis swung the sickle.

"HELP!" She shrieked.

Boy #4, Dave, emerged from the trees, bewilderment on his face.

"He's fucking trying to kill me!" Alex hissed, pointing into the van.

Dave called out to Kris. Even in the heat of action Alex felt the lack of real concern in his voice.

Kris appeared, AK in hand, from the other side of the road. He ascertained the situation instantly and began to unload a substantial amount of ammo into the side of the van.

After a few seconds of deafening assault rifle fire, he stopped and grabbed the panel door of the van and yanked it open, expecting to see a bullet-riddled corpse.

Instead he found nothing.

He ran around to the front of the van and spotted bloody shoeprints running off into the woods.

Kris turned back to the other two and shrugged, before saying, "He's gone."

Francis was indeed gone. Kris' sudden firing had startled him, and so had the bullet scraping his face. He had scrambled out the front of the driver side door and sprinted off into the trees, keeping a tight grip on Dave's sickle, all the while, his ear's ringing from the gunfire.

As he got deeper into the forest he began to feel more comfortable. No one was following him. He was disappointed at his failure, but at least he'd managed to find a real weapon to use against the others.

Suddenly, as he put his foot down for another step, he felt the ground drop away from him. His mouth was an 'o' of surprise as he plummeted down a steep, mud embankment.

He cried out in pain as his arm rolled underneath him. He felt it strain, and then heard a sickening splitting.

Finally he stopped rolling and he felt pain…So much pain.

Francis gasped and looked at his arm. Glinting in the sunlight was the white of bone, sticking out from his elbow. Bile rose.

Girl #7 and #21, Melissa and Elle, and Boy #19, Andrew, had not seen anyone else since Boy #18 had attacked them. After he'd saved their lives, Melissa and Elle had gained a degree of trust for the boy, and they now held no suspicion towards him. Well, almost none.

The group had hidden inside a hollowed out tree as the rain began again, and attempted to light a fire. None of them really knew what to do, and unbeknownst to them they were doing it completely wrong, with wet sticks. It was never going to happen.

"That was Dan wasn't it?" Melissa asked, breaking the silence that had lasted almost an hour.

Andrew nodded, as he rubbed two sticks together, trying in vain to create friction.

Elle snickered, "I never would've guessed that _he _would have tried to kill _me_."

"What?" Andrew asked.

"Didn't you know?" She said, surprised, "Dan had the _biggest _crush on me in seventh grade. He even asked me out." She giggled.

"What was your answer?" Andrew asked.

"Duh," Elle snapped, "He's a total gimp, and there's no way I'd go out with _him_."

Andrew shrugged and returned to his fire. Elle was concerned at the sudden silence.

"What?" She said.

"Did you ever stop to think that that's why he's out to kill you?" He said, after a moment, not looking up from his work.

Elle had no answer.

Over in the church, Boy #11, Ollie, had swapped guard shifts with Boy #7, Tom, and was now devouring half his bread stock.

Boy #6, Jack, was fast asleep, and snoring, loudly.

Girl #18, Felicity, had moved from the altar, and she was now sitting on the balcony overlooking it, dangling her legs off the edge. She could almost see the fifty or so people who would have been congregating there that morning…if it hadn't been for this horrid contest.

Softly, she began to sing a quiet, Japanese tune.

"…ikou emi de, hikari no terashi dasu hou ni…" She hummed.

Her hushed solo was suddenly interrupted by a clap of thunder, and a streak of lightning directly overhead, that the four could see through the church's aging skylight.

Felicity screamed and covered her head with her arms, throwing her crossbow down next to her. Lightning and thunder had always been a source of terror for her. Her mother had always said 'It's just God bowling', but Felicity always thought that it was some terrible thing, out to shatter the world.

"What's wrong?" Tom shouted from the door, concern ringing in every word.

The lightning flashed again, and Felicity screamed for a second time, louder than before.

Tom indicated with his axe to Ollie. Ollie sighed and rolled his eyes, before he climbed up the metal staircase that lead to the balcony.

"Are you okay?" He asked sitting down next to the frightened girl.

She shook her head no and shrieked as yet more lightning crackled overhead. Ollie muttered and 'ugh' of disgust.

"THIS IS BULLSHIT!" Girl #20, Veronica, shrieked. She held the ottoman above her head and threw it hard at the building's wall, "WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT WENT FUCKING WRONG?"

Veronica continued to scream as she smashed and destroyed the hut she was in. Her fury at failing to eliminate two of her classmates was endless. Her tantrums when things didn't go her way were infamous and legendary. Teachers had been sent crying from the classroom after them. No one left unscathed after this common occurrence.

Instantly the birds in the trees outside took flight, and none of them returned until it had finished.

Girl #17, June, was overwhelmingly happy to see her friends. They meant _everything_ to her. To see their smiling faces brought her a joy that she hadn't even thought possible.

But that joy was punctuated when June caught sight of her original companion, Boy #20, Angel. He was standing far off from the trio of girls, and had none of the characteristic swagger and confidence of Angel Summers. It was like Girl #13 and Girl #15, Sarah and Jessica's arrival had broken him.

As soon as an opportunity presented itself, June broke away from her friends and knelt down next to the depressed boy.

"Angel," She said, "Are, are you okay?"

He didn't answer.

"Angel, look at me!" June snapped, shaking him by the shoulders.

He just stared at her, with a sad frown upon his face. June was lost for words.

So she kissed him, longer than the last time, and with much more purpose.

Jessica and Sarah gaped, shocked.

Boy #2, Anthony, had been cautious throughout the Battle Royale. He knew that he couldn't afford _any_ wrong moves. A wrong move meant death, not just for him, but for _her_ as well. So, he trod carefully, and checked everything underfoot. He looked around every conceivable corner before making a move.

But that still hadn't stopped him getting attacked by one of the more homicidal members of his class.

Checking that the coast was clear, he had stopped, and opened his fly. He was about to continue his search after his toilet stop when the branch above his head exploded, sending splintered wood into the air.

Anthony swore and turned. Boy #18, Dan, was twenty metres away, a gun pointed at him. Tony made a dash for the trees to his left. Dan turned with Anthony's movement and fired again. The bullet just barely missed him, embedding itself in a tree trunk. Anthony sprinted in the opposite direction, weaving through the trees.

"GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!" Dan yelled, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He fired twice more.

"I said GET BACK HERE!" He yelled again.

Anthony slipped around a tree and plunged his hand into his bag. His fingers wrapped around his MI911A Colt .45 handgun.

_Fuckin' bullshit gunfight._ _Get the hell away from me Dan! _

Anthony dove from behind the tree, executing a perfect somersault, as he aimed with one hand.

Dan's eyes widened as he saw a small dash of flame erupt from the gun barrel. He dropped to the dirt, and _felt _the bullet pass over-head. It felt like something out of _The Matrix_.

Recovering instantly, he brought his own handgun up and fired three more times. But each shot went wildly to each side of the target, into bare foliage.

"Screw this," Anthony hissed. He fired once more, before turning tail and fleeing.

Dan took cover, and by the time he looked up, Anthony was a speck in the distance.

"FUCK!" Dan screamed.

Girl #8, Zoe, had not come across another soul for a while, not that she noticed.

The shock of seeing yet another classmate die, and then being attacked by someone she thought was a nice guy, was just too much for her to handle. She shut down, not able to comprehend the horror she'd witnessed.

But that did not stop her from walking. She'd left her pack a couple of kilometres back, at a creek where she'd rested.

She did not know it, but since her last attack, fifty minutes or so, she'd walked six kilometres, which, given the terrain and the circumstances, was an impressive feat.

However, if someone had asked her to describe the scenery she'd passed, she would have no answer. Her eyes were blank, and unseeing.

And so she continued to walk, slowly, carefully, and above all, quietly.

Girls #1 and #2, Meghan and Rebecca, had done their best to keep their spirits high after their short encounter with the dead. They'd sung songs, played 'I Spy', and '6 Degrees', and talked about how they were going to eat as much as ice-cream as they could when they got home. Neither of them let the thought creep in that they would soon be dead.

But they could do nothing to stop the morale-destroyer that loomed just around the corner.

Girl #4, Melanie, whirled around and lifted her nun-chucks, ready to attack whoever was sneaking up on her.

But it was just the wind.

Her companion, Girl #5, Tess, sniggered at her display.

"What?" Mel asked.

"You just looked so," Tess searched for the right word, "Silly."

Mel flipped her off.

"Thanks." She said.

The two continued walking, Tess constantly moaning of the still-bleeding scratch she'd suffered after dodging the sniper.

After five more minutes of complaining, Melanie had finally had enough.

"Stop." She said, turning to Tess. "Sit down, and I'm going to do something about this 'massive scratch'."

Melanie threw the pack she'd received for Battle Royale to her side, and pulled her _own _bag off her back. She rummaged through it before she finally found it, her First Aid Kit, something she never went on excursions without.

"Here we are," She said, happily, "Now, let's see, you just want a bandage or a band-aid or something?"

"Yeah," Tess said, "That'll help." Melanie handed them over, "Thanks.

"No problem."

The girls sat silently while Tess put the two band-aids over the wound.

"There, better already." She said, patting her arm.

"You wanna keep walking?" Melanie asked.

Tess thought for a moment before saying, "Nah, I reckon we should just stay here for the night."

"Where will we sleep?" Melanie asked. "Under a tree?"

"Ugh, no thanks, gross." Tess said, "Let's find somewhere."

"I thought we'd decided not to go to any buildings!" Melanie cried, exasperated, but Tess had already gone on ahead in search of a resting place.

"LOOK! A hut or something, maybe Anthony's in there!" Girl #2, Rebecca shouted, running up to it.

"Wait up!" Girl #1, Meghan shouted jogging up behind her.

But as she reached the hut, a horrible, sickly sweet smell overcame her.

"Oh God, what's that stink?" She said, almost dry-retching.

"It doesn't matter." Bec said, turning the hut's door handle.

The sight that befell them would haunt both of them until they went to their graves.

Flopped face-down on a cot, beneath the window, was Boy #10, Alex. But there was no way the girls could tell that it was him.

The entire back of his head was missing, with jagged pieces of skull sticking out from what used to be his brain. Blood stained the wall, and the stench was over-powering.

It was nothing like when they'd run past and barely noticed Nick.

"Oh God." Meghan gasped, sinking to her knees.

As she did so, a single black raven swooped in through the open door, over the head of Rebecca, and landing on Alex's back.

"Jesus Christ." Rebecca whispered, staring, entranced.

The bird hopped lightly onto the corpse's neck and stopped. It looked around for a moment, before it suddenly plunged its beak into the brainy pulp.

It twisted its head around and ripped a small piece out, and promptly swallowed it.

At this, Rebecca turned and vomited.

Meghan didn't move. Her eyes widened. Her lips mouthed the words 'sweet Jesus' as her knees buckled beneath her.

Girl #8, Alana, had needed to use the toilet for the past thirty minutes. She did everything she could to avoid it. But eventually, she knew she had to go. Otherwise, a clean-up crew would be sorely needed.

She turned to her boyfriend, Boy #15, Darren and said, "Baby doll…"

He stirred.

"I've gotta go for just a minute, but then I'll be right back, okay?"

He moaned and opened his eyes, "That's fine…" In his delirium he couldn't even tell what she'd said.

Alana smiled and scurried off.

Leaving Darren alone with Boy #14, Calin.

Calin stared at the injured form of his boyfriend's killer. His rage had not subsided. If anything it had intensified. His empathy for Alana's situation did not extend to Darren. Nothing could possibly match the pain Calin wished to inflict upon the boy in front of him. He'd sat for what seemed like an eternity; sitting not three feet away from someone he so desperately wanted, _needed_, to kill…no…not even kill…torture.

After making sure that Alana was gone, Calin slid over the rocks of the cave's floor to where Alana's abandoned, forgotten and abhorred hatchet lay.

He grabbed it and turned to where his target lay. He stumbled forward and stood, towering above Darren.

"Hey, Darren."

Darren opened his eyes and squinted up at the other boy.

"You killed him." Calin said, holding the hatchet up, "Now I kill you."

Darren stared meekly.

But the hatchet never fell.

Suddenly, from up at the cave's mouth came Alana's call, "CALIN!"

Calin whirled and put the hatchet behind his back and smiled up at Alana, as she came into view.

"Is Darren alright?" She asked.

"Oh, yeah." He answered, putting on a fake smile, "He was just fidgeting. I was checking on him." He sat down and hid the hatchet in a small crevice.

Alana didn't even notice it was gone.

Girl #12, Sophie was pissed off. Not only had she been attacked by an unknown assailant, chased, in the process losing her best friend in dense forest, but she had accidentally cut her own arm with her own machete.

"Fuck!" She hissed, "This is so fucked up!"

She stopped, throwing her blade to the ground. She propped one foot up against the tree trunk next to her, and began to proceed to rip the bottom foot or so of her long, school kilt. She then used the tattered and removed bottom piece as a make-shift bandage. After she was done bandaging her wounds she put her arm down and stared at the foliage around her.

She looked down and saw a single white flower. She didn't know what it was called, but she knew it was pretty. Kneeling down, she picked it, and lifted it up to eye level for a closer inspection.

She smiled, as a single bee climbed up the pollen stalk. It took off and buzzed around for a moment, before it flew off to find more nectar.

"Okay, girls, I have a surprise." Girl #19, Emma said, rummaging in her backpack, "I have here a treat, for us, on our newly made fire."

"What is it?" Girl #11, Chloe asked, looking up from her book.

"Yeah, what?" Girl #9, Rachael, asked, bounding over from her specially made tree seat.

"MARSHMALLOWS!" She cried, pulling the pack of the candy out with a flurry.

The other two girls squealed with delight, and all three of them grabbed sticks to toast them.

As they felt the temperature drop, and the sky begin to darken, the girls had begun construction of a fire. And within twenty minutes, they had created the roaring flames which sat in front of them now.

"I think this is really good, Emma," Chloe said, "Make the most of what we have left." Rachael gasped at her last statement. "Oh, no Rachael, I didn't mean that. But…this has really showed me the meaning of the phrase 'live for the moment'."

Rachael nodded. Both smiled.

Neither noticed Emma's silence.

Girl #3, Stephanie, was taking her separation from her companion far worse than Sophie was.

She'd stumbled out onto a cleared field, and to her disgust had found the carcasses of several sheep. Flies were all over them, buzzing and eating.

Stephanie had run past them and tripped, falling into some mud. She swore and moaned. She couldn't be bothered getting up. It was all just so useless. She couldn't be bothered. At least until she heard a shuffling and low moan from behind her.

"OK," Boy #12, Gavin, said to himself. "I'm a big, evil, child-hating group who is running a huge, covert operation from a tiny island. Where would I be." He was sitting down and staring at his map, thinking of the logical place for the Battle Royale's base to be set up. He'd ruled out the towns, as he knew there'd be plenty of kids there, and the organisers would want few people interrupting them.

But there were so many places that were out of the way, the church, the school, the lighthouse; he didn't know which to choose!

Finally, he resorted to his last option, eeny meeny miny mo.

"…mo!"

His finger lay on lighthouse, at the north of the island.

Gavin grabbed his pack and left.

Stephanie screamed and rolled, as Boy #21, Francis, swung his stolen sickle. It slammed into the soft mud.

"Stop, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" She screamed, stumbling to her feet.

He hissed and ran at her.

But Stephanie was too quick. She stepped to the side and stuck out her leg, tripping her attacker up.

He cried out and fell, throwing his arms out to stop himself. Too late, he remembered his broken arm, and screamed in gut-wrenching pain as he heard yet another section of his arm bone splinter.

Stephanie knew he was down for the count, but just to make sure, and to release a little bit of her tension, she kicked him, _hard_, right in the ribs.

There was another snapping noise, and a squelching. Francis gasped.

Stephanie looked around, and spotted his sickle, lying a few feet away from its fallen wielder. She grabbed it, and gave Francis a last look, and a last kick, before she ran, as fast as she could, back in the direction she'd come.

Boy #9, Ben, was scared, more scared than he'd ever been. He knew he could've followed Anthony, but for some reason he just, _hadn't_. He couldn't tell what it was, but, in these quiet, lonely moments, he began to think that the reason was that he _knew _that he wouldn't be welcome when Anthony got wherever he was going.

It was almost dark, and already, the creatures of the night were coming out to play.

Ben knew it was a small island, and he knew there wasn't anything in the forest that would harm him. No animal at least.

But that didn't stop him being terrified.

35 Remain


	6. Hour 6

**©Hour 6: 35 Remaining- 6:00 pm First Evening Report**

The sun hung low in the orange sky. Its light played tricks with the clouds, making it look like demonic hands were reaching across the heavens.

All was silent, peaceful, as the first night of the Battle Royale fell.

As soon as the clock ticked over to 6:00 pm, that silence was broken.

"Hello, hello," Said a voice that seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. In reality, it was coming from speakers hidden all over the island.

"It's six o'clock, time for the first evening report!" said Miss Leech, looking down at the list of names that sat before her. "Since the game began, we've had seven kills, including the one student who died at my hand."

"I'm gonna make this quick. Here they are, in the order of their deaths."

"1: Girl #10, Georgina.

2: Boy #16, Stu.

3: Boy #13, Stefan.

4: Boy #17, Ian.

5: Boy #8, Nick.

6: Boy #10, Alex.

7: Boy #3, Jonathon."

"Any shockers there kids?" she asked, laughing, "Personally, I'm surprised at Stu; I thought he'd be in it for a while."

Miss Leech was quiet for a moment, before she cried out, "Oh yes! I can't forget the DANGER ZONES!!" She looked over at the computer screen next to her. "Since you guys have already killed six, I'm gonna only make one, at…hmmm…"

She touched the screen, over a northern area of the island.

"F-15 I think, starting at 7:00pm. So, if you're in F-15, get out of there in the next hour…or else…" She trailed off, before saying, "That's all from me, for now. You've now got another six hours to rest before the _next _report. And FYI, if another six of you aren't dead in that time, I'm making another _four _danger zones next time, and I'll purposefully make it where some of you are camping, just to fuck with you. 'Kay?"

And with that, Leech signed off.

Boy #2, Anthony hadn't cried since he was five years old. Until now.

Upon hearing of one of his closest friends' death, namely that of Boy #3, Jonathon, he had stopped, and sat. His thoughts flashed back to all the fun times they'd had, and, realizing he'd never get to see him again, he'd begun to break down.

Anthony had never had to deal with someone he knew, someone he cared about, dying. And he didn't know how.

And so, he sat, and cried, gun in hand, thinking about how much he hated the government for causing so much pain. It just didn't make any fucking sense!

The Evening Report had stunned everyone in the church, and each of its inhabitants had reacted differently.

Boy #7, Tom, who had just been about to begin his guard shift, had, in a sudden burst of rage, slammed his axe into the wall. The plaster gave way instantly, and Tom soon found the axe was stuck. All he could do was swear as the dust settled.

Boy #11, Oliver, had slumped down in a pew, and gone to sleep, still glad that he was, for the time being, safe.

Boy #6, Jack, had locked himself in the bathroom and, like Anthony, cried for the first time in years.

Girl #18, Felicity, had done nothing. As she heard Stu's name called, her mind had begun to race, so fast she could do nothing but stare into eternity. Finally, it had stopped, and she decided on what she saw as the only reasonable reaction.

She got up from her position on the balcony, and picked up her crossbow. She slid down the winding staircase and headed for the bolted door.

As her feet loudly landed on the concrete floor, Ollie stirred, and, seeing her go, leapt to his feet and shouted, "Hey, where are you going?" He still saw her as there 'prisoner', panicked that she could be planning on something.

Felicity stopped, "Out." Came her answer.

"Out where?" Tom asked, stepping up to her and gently grabbing her shoulder.

"To wherever they're organising this thing from." She said, tears beginning to blossom in her enormous eyes, "I'm going to take them out."

"NO! You can't!"

She gritted her teeth, blinking rapidly, "Like hell I can't…"

"You _can't_." He said.

Felicity stopped, and stared at Tom, as the tears began to fall.

"But…" She gasped, "I…luh-loved him…He was the one person I really wanted…and he's gone!"

"I know." He said, as he held her. Felicity's knees buckled and she slipped through his grip and onto the floor.

Jack and Oliver slowly backed away and left the girl to her pain.

After a moment, Tom sat down next to her, and let her rest in his lap.

All was silent.

All throughout her life, Girl #14, Maddy, had been plagued by asthma attacks. Every PE session, she'd eventually have to sit out, as he breathing became restricted. It was the same with every school camping trip, and every sports carnival. But each time she'd gotten it under control. Never had she gone without her medication, until now.

For twenty minutes it got worse and worse. By the end her face was purple and there were stars in her eyes. She was positive she was going to die.

But she didn't. All of a sudden, Maddy found she could breathe a little bit easier, and then a _lot _easier. She lay on the bank of the stream, panting, as the colour returned to her face.

It took forty minutes before she could breathe normally again, and by that time, the Report had already been past. She couldn't bear to hear the names of the dead, and covered her ears the entire report. She didn't hear any of it, including the announcement of the Danger Zone.

"We're here." Boy #4, Dave, said, pulling his foot off the accelerator.

"Wha?" Kris mumbled, from the seat next to him.

"We're here!" Dave said, slowly bringing the van to a stop outside a white, two floored building, which had a small red cross on the door.

Kris, relieved beyond belief, leapt from his seat and ran around to the back, throwing open the rear doors.

"ALEX! We're here!" He said, breathless.

"I was beginning to worry." Alex said, laughing.

She stopped when a sudden wave of pain washed over her entire body. She cried out in agony, and arched her back.

"What is it?" Dave called, somewhat coldly from the front seat.

"Nothing," Alex said, panting, as she did her best to sit up.

Kris frowned. The obvious lie was painful to even hear. She looked so frail.

"OK, time to get you out of here girl." Dave said, walking around form the front and grabbing her beneath the arm-pits.

She winced, as she struggled to her feet.

Kris took her by the other arm, and together, the two boys lead her into the medical centre.

"Angel," Girl #17, June, whispered into the ear of Boy #20, Angel.

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"The dark."

Angel put his arms around the frightened girl, and held her close. He stroked her hair lightly, and began to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. It calmed her to hear the softness in his voice.

Across from them, resting against a tree, were Girls #13 and #15, Sarah and Jessica.

Sarah was asleep, her head leaning against Jessica's shoulder. She was ever so softly snoring, and twitched every so often.

Jessica, on the other hand, was staring into the darkness of night, listening intently to the conversation of the other two.

She was fuming.

_Fucking bitch, _She thought, _She KNEW Angel was mine, she KNEW I wanted him…_

_In two and a half days I'm gonna die, _Girl #2, Rebecca thought, _There's nothing I can do. _

Girl #1, Meghan, was thinking similarly. Her thoughts however were…fragmented and rambling… _Oh dear, Holy Jesus, Holy Mary Mother of God there's no fucking way out of here I'm fucking screwed like hell I'm wanna win this but look what happened to Alex lying dead in a shack with half his head missing I can't take much more of this…_

Girl #3, Stephanie, was crying. She mourned the dead, but also mourned the living. Seven of her classmates were dead, and thirty-four were still to go. This was as apt a description of hell as she could muster. She couldn't bear to think of it, and she slipped her i-pod from her bag.

"Fuck this shit,"Girl #20, Veronica, said to herself, still livid from her missed shot.

She grabbed her rifle and rested it by the window, and then proceeded to stuff all her supplies and ammo into her back-pack. She swung it onto her back and began to shift the bookcase that she'd used to block the building's door.

"I guess I'll just have to find the bastards myself." Veronica said, lifting her rifle onto her shoulder.

She left, and began heading down the path that Melanie and Tess had come from. She doubted they were there, but perhaps she could pick up a trail.

"Francis!"

Boy #21, Francis, stirred, opening his eyes from his unconsciousness.

"Who is it?" He called.

"Who do you think?"

That's when Francis knew something strange was happening. Last thing he could remember, he was lying in pain, in a field full of dead sheep.

Now, he was standing at the bottom of a snow-covered hill. Snowflakes fell around him. He stuck out his tongue and let one melt on it.

He smiled and stepped forward, his school shoes crunching the new snow.

Francis twirled on the spot, letting the scenery sink in. It was the kind of scenery you'd see in a painting, or as a computer's wallpaper.

He'd never seen anything like it.

Boy #12, Gavin smiled in relief, as the lighthouse began to appear above a distant bank of trees, its light flashing in the darkness, as he crested a massive hill. At last, after an hour of trekking, he could see his goal.

But he still had another solid hour of walking ahead of him.

In front of him, the path he had taken disappeared, and gave way to waist-high grass, that covered the slopes of several small humps of ground. The humps continued for a kilometre, before giving way to the dense forest the lighthouse was hiding behind.

"Yes, I can make it." He said to himself, and he began to slide down the side of the hill.

Boy #21, Francis, was still spinning in the snow. The world was spinning, faster and faster. Eventually, it was just too much and the boy fell, landing on his back, eyes squeezed closed.

He laughed, and scooped up a handful of the snow and threw it onto his uniform. He'd never played like this in snow before.

His eyes opened.

His scream was deafening.

Girl #8, Zoe, was tired. The sudden falling of night had made her realise that fact. As darkness fell she became more aware of her surroundings, and had managed to bring herself out of the trance like stupor since Alex's suicide.

"Okay, gotta find a building." She said to herself.

Stopping, she lifted her map which was hanging from a chain around her neck, and shined her torch onto it. Looking it over, she found the closest building, a small cross. She figured it was a church, and she liked the idea of finding sanctuary in God's house.

It also seemed lucky. It was, after all, still Sunday.

"I say we go left," Girl #4, Melanie said, shining her torch down the left fork of the road.

"I say we go right," Girl #5, Tess said, shining her torch down the other path.

"But look at that path, you can barely tell it's there! At least on my path you're not likely to suddenly run into a tree." Melanie said, resting her hands on her hips.

"Well, at least on my path it'll be tough work trying to catch someone on it!" Tess said, crossing her arms.

Melanie sighed, "Tess, I'm not gonna argue with you."

"And I'm not gonna argue with you, I'm going right." Tess said, sticking out her tongue, and beginning to head off down her selected path.

Melanie grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

"I'm not gonna let you go there alone, it's too dangerous to go by yourself!"

"And just _how _are you gonna stop me?" Tess asked, "With your nun-chucks?"

She yanked her arm out of the other girl's grip.

"Maybe I will." She said, "It's seriously not a good idea to go that way, it's like suicide!"

"Just how do you know that?" Tess asked.

Melanie began to answer but Tess cut her off, "I don't care. I'm going. Deal with it."

And she left, leaving Melanie alone.

Boy #21, Francis screamed again and scrambled to his feet.

The snow on which he had been lying was stained red.

"What the-" He stuttered. He looked around wildly and then squeezed his eyes closed again. "When I open them," He said to himself, "It'll be white and pretty again."

He opened them.

It was worse.

Scattered across the base of the hill lay the corpses of Georgina, Stu, Stefan, Ian, Nick, Alex and Jonathon, eyes open, staring.

All of them were blood-stained, and death white.

Francis shrieked and backed up.

But suddenly he hurt. He'd run into something and he whirled around.

Leering at him was his teacher, Miss Leech. In her hand was an elaborate and blood-stained knife. She brought it up to her face and licked the blood off of it.

"Tasty." She whispered.

This was when Francis suddenly realised he was surrounded.

His classmates were everywhere, all leering at him, all armed with a different weapon.

They stared at him for a moment.

And then they tore him apart.

Francis opened his eyes and sat up. A few meters away was a pile of dead sheep.

His arm suddenly exploded with pain and he cried out.

It had been a dream. Just a horrible, horrible dream.

"Oh, YES!" Girl #8, Zoe cried out, as she ran out into the clearing. One-hundred meters away, across an old, rusty playground, rose the tiny steeple of the church. Lights blared from the street-lamps, lighting the area like it was day. It truly looked like a sanctuary.

"YOU GUYS!" Boy #6, Jack shouted, from up on the balcony, which provided a clear view through a massive window of the playground in front of them.

"What?" Boy 11, Ollie, asked from the altar.

"Yeah, what?" Boy #7, Tom, asked, getting up from the still motionless Girl #18, Felicity.

"Someone's out there!" Jack yelled, "I think it's Zoe!"

"DON'T LET HER KNOW WE'RE HERE!" Ollie cried, panicked.

"There's no way she's dangerous," Tom said, "Go out and call for her!"

Jack nodded and slid down the stairs. He shoved the pews out of the way of the door and yanked them open, running out onto the steps. He peered out towards the edge of the streetlight's luminescence, where he could just make her out.

Zoe saw Jack run out into the street, and relief washed over her. She was about to call out and run over to him when she heard something rustling behind her. She turned, her pulse quickening.

There her eyes fell upon the bloodied figure of Boy #1, Sam.

Jack could see Zoe stop for a moment. He was puzzled. Maybe she hadn't realized he was there. Then he realized she'd seen something, something he couldn't.

"Zoe…" Sam whispered, staggering forward.

"Sam," She gasped, "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

Tears streamed down Sam's face.

"I killed him," He moaned, taking another step.

Zoe gasped, shocked to the core. Her previous concern for Sam had now been taken over by fear for herself. She backed away into the light, where she knew Jack could see her.

"What's going on?" Ollie asked form behind the door.

"I can't tell! She's scared though." Jack said, putting a hand above his eyes, trying to shield them from the bright lights. He knew he should run and help her…but what if it was something really bad?

"Killed, w-who?" Zoe stuttered, backing further away.

Sam stepped forward again, crying.

"I didn't mean to, he, he," Sam couldn't finish.

"WHO!"

"Jon, I k-killed Jon."

Zoe stopped, stunned. "Oh dear God," She whispered. Jon was Sam's friend…how could he do that?

"LOOK!" Ollie yelled, "It's Sam! Sam's there!"

"Fuck, what is he doing?!" Jack said, running a few steps forward.

Zoe was petrified…and torn. She _thought _that Sam was telling the truth, but she didn't _know_. How could she possibly trust someone who freely admitted to killing someone?

"What weapon did he have?" She asked, hoping to sort out the situation.

Sam held up the nail-gun, finger held away from the trigger.

"Wha-what'd you get?" He asked her, hesitantly.

Zoe opened her bag and held up her weapon, a MAC-10. She really had no idea what it was, except that by pulling a trigger she could make Swiss-cheese out of someone.

"Oh, that's good." He said, quietly, almost to himself.

"It's never gonna get used." Zoe said, firmly. She'd made _that_ decision very quickly, almost as soon as she saw it.

"I want it." Sam mumbled.

Zoe's head tilted, "What?" She hadn't quite caught what he'd said.

Sam leapt at her, knocking her to the ground. The MAC flew off to the side, and the nail-gun fell from Sam's hand.

"SAM! What are you doing!?"

"THEY'RE FIGHTING!" Jack shouted, pointing. "Ollie! Come with me! Tom stay with Felicity!"

Tom nodded, but Ollie hesitated. After a moment's pause he followed, swearing under his breath.

Zoe brought her knee up, ramming it into Sam's solo-plexus. He gasped, winded, and fell to his knees.

Zoe leapt over to the bushes where her MAC lay. She grabbed it and began to fire wildly in Sam's general direction.

All the bullets missed by a mile, and Sam laughed.

"NICE AIM CREELMAN!" He yelled.

"Sam! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!" Zoe screamed. How had it turned out like this?

"I'M NOT GONNA DIE ZOE!" He screamed back, "Not now! NOT EVER!"

He shrieked, and leapt out from behind his cover, bringing the nail-gun up and pointed it right at Zoe's fore-head.

Her MAC hung limply by her side.

"You're not trying anymore Zoe." He said,

"I know."

"It seems you don't value your life anymore." He was surprised to find himself taken aback by her answer.

"I do. But, shock horror; I'm not going to kill you. Or anyone else." She paused. "I intend to go to heaven."

"Aw, okay, I'll get you there…"

Jack stopped, dead in his tracks. Zoe had crumpled.

Sam stepped over the body of Girl #8, Zoe and laughed. He bent down and grabbed the MAC-10 out of her dead hand.

He turned, and could just make-out Jack and Ollie, staring at him in horror.

"HEY GUYS!" He shouted, waving the sub-machine gun in the air.

"FUCK!" Ollie cried, turning and bolting back to the church.

Jack did the same, hoping against hope that Zoe might be okay.

Sam looked back down at Zoe, concentrating on the nail sticking out from the centre of her fore-head. Blood trickled down the side of the wound, while she stared up at the sky, eyes un-blinking.

"Going to heaven now are we?"

Girl #8, Zoe, Dead: 34 remaining.

_Is this how my life is going to end, just another faceless dead kid on the list of Battle Royale victims?_

_Am I just gonna end up like Tara?_

Girl #12, Sophie, had never thought as much as she had in the last six hours. Her mind was racing, all the time. It hadn't stopped.

And it had brought back painful memories, memories she'd put in the back of her mind. Memories she didn't want to remember.

Like her memory of Tara.

Boy #18, Dan, sat, rested against his pack, slowly eating his way through a loaf of bread.

Lying next to him was a list he had written up of all the kids in the class. Crossed out in red were all those who had died so far.

Dan had put a number next to each, rating them in how much of a threat he thought they posed.

But next to Elle's name he had a small star, indicating a foot-note.

On the other side of the page he had written a speech of sorts, of what he intended to say when he killed her.

He was going to find her, and make her pay for humiliating him.

_It's so quiet._

_I never thought it could be this quiet._

Boy #9, Ben was quiet too. He'd been alone for over an hour now, and darkness had truly settled over the island.

And yet, the sounds of nature had died away. All was still. There wasn't even the chirping of crickets to interrupt the emptiness.

Ben had made it to the beach, but there were no waves to make any noise.

He shined his torch out across the water, and sighed.

Boy #15, Darren, had been conscious during Boy #14's attack on him. But once Girl #6, Alana, had returned, he'd found it impossible to make a sound. He could only stare, wide-eyed, at the 'fag', until, at about 6:35 or so, he slipped into unconsciousness. It was a blessing, really.

Calin's heart was racing. Any second he thought Alana would realise her hatchet was gone from the place she'd abandoned it, and find him out, and throw him out of the cave, or worse, kill him. She could do it too. He couldn't hurt her. Despite her lack of taste in boys Alana was good to him. He couldn't justify hurting her.

Alana was the only one of them who was relatively content. Darren was doing okay, and sleeping, and Calin seemed quite trust-worthy, sitting quietly. She didn't think there was anything to worry about. She thought everything was alright with everyone, that this madness would end, or she'd wake up. It didn't.

"So, seven dead, thirty-five to go, huh?" Girl #11, Chloe, said, interrupting the hush that had fallen over the three girls' campsite.

"Yeah," Girl #9, Rachael, said, depressed.

Girl #19, Emma, on the other hand was angry. Furious even. She'd taken her shot-gun and loaded it, violently.

"Oh, those fuckers are gonna die." She snapped.

"Who?" Chloe asked.

Emma turned to them.

"Miss Leech, of course." She said, "I mean, she _killed _Georgina, without even flinching. Just the other day she was helping her with her maths homework. I mean, what the _fuck_!"

Chloe nodded, and turned back to her last remaining marshmallow.

"But," Rachael started, "If we do something, won't the collars explode?"

"I don't care," Emma said, "I'll just get it off, somehow."

Rachael and Chloe were sceptical.

"COME ON!" Emma cried, "There _has _to be a way to get out of this! Surely, they have a way to take these bitches off, and it can't be too hard, it's just a glorified necklace, isn't it?"

The other two girls were still sceptical.

"Hey, Melissa," Boy #19, Andrew, said, sitting down next to her, "Do you know how to work this thing?" He held up the Desert Eagle.

"Sure," Girl#7, Melissa said, "If someone attacks me I just point it at them and pull the trigger until they go away." She made a small smile.

"Good." He said, handing the gun to her, "You might as well keep it."

"Oh, no, surely you're a better shot," She said, holding it up for him to take back.

Andrew shook his head, "No, pot doesn't leave you with much depth perception."

Melissa gasped, "P-pot?"

Andrew laughed and nodded.

"You never heard the stories?"

"I never really believed them." Melissa said sheepishly.

Girl #21, Elle, was off on the other side of the now blazing fire. But it wasn't making her warm. Goose-bumps riddled her flesh, and her breath was visible in front of her. The clothes she'd changed into were not the best for being worn outdoors at night.

Andrew saw this.

"Here, put this on." He said, holding out his trench-coat.

"Oh, thank-you!" Elle said, pulling it on. It was such a fixture on Andrew's body that Elle was perturbed its absence from his chest.

"No problem." He smiled at her, and then went over to his seat, where he began to read a massive novel that he pulled from his seemingly bottomless bag.

_He's kinda cute._

Elle's eyes widened as she realised what she'd just thought.

34 Remain


	7. Hour 7

**©Hour 7: 34 Remaining- 7:00 pm**

Leech was impressed by her class. From what she'd heard, some Battle Royale's took a while to get started, but that wasn't the case with her class.

She even only had to kill one of them to begin with, while some classes' had reportedly taken up to four.

Leech stared at the one remaining pack, the one that should have gone to Girl #10, Georgina, but hadn't. She'd brought it inside the BR's headquarters once she'd read the sixth report.

And now she was staring at it, thinking, 'who will be next'.

She thought for a moment, and then got up and grabbed the last pack. She opened it, and threw away the food, water, torch and map.

All that was left was a small, plastic box. She removed it and dumped the bag.

"What have we here?" She said.

She opened it.

Inside was a small, orange bottle. On it was a simple white label, and all it said was: _CYANIDE- POISON- DO NO INGEST_

Leech smiled, and put the bottle of poison in her pocket.

"Okay, put the blanket down." Boy #6, Jack said, to Boy #11, Oliver.

Ollie shuddered and said, "Why do I have to do it?" Just being near Zoe's body freaked him out. His skin was crawling with goose-bumps and all he wanted to do was run away.

"Just do it!" Jack said, but as Ollie lowered the blanket Jack cried out, "STOP!"

Slowly, he reached down and brushed her eyelids closed. Ollie then fully lowered the blanket, and the boys were silent.

"Let's get back inside, in case he comes back." Oliver said, his nerve getting the better of him.

But Jack couldn't leave. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the bump in the blanket, caused by the nail still embedded in the girl's skull.

"Ollie," He muttered, "How can she be dead?" He turned around to face the other boy, "She, she was house captain with me last year, we worked together. How can she be dead?"

"I don't know." He paused, and then said, "But she is." Then he turned and walked back to the church alone. Jack waited, trying to find an answer to questions he didn't even know.

Boy #5, Kris, found himself relaxing for the first time since the game began. He and Boy #4, Dave, had set up their charge quite comfortably in the clinic's hospital cot, and Kris was now lounging on a psychiatrist sofa out in the former waiting room.

Dave sat next to him, but he wasn't saying anything. He sat silently, staring towards the door to the room where their companion was resting.

In the other room, Girl #16, Alexandra, lay sleeping, a fresh, but already bloodied bandage wrapped tightly around her thigh.

Once the original bandage had been removed, she'd passed out from another wave of pain, and, although it went unnoticed, her heart stopped for a fraction of a second.

But her condition quickly improved, as she was made comfortable in a large hospital bed. And yet still, she slept.

Her dreams were deeply troubled with images of blood, violence and death…but the dreams were still more of a comfort than the world she would wake up in.

_Where is she! _Boy #2, Anthony, thought, sprinting through the jungle.

_She's gotta be around her somewhere, she wasn't on the report, SHE'S STILL ALIVE! _

Suddenly, he burst out from the dense scrub into a brightly lit area, which, once he was used to the light, he realized was a small suburban street.

Lined up along the road were a dozen homes, most of them double story. Some seemed brand new, while others were in an appalling state of disrepair. Several doors hung off their hinges like someone had burst in, and one of them had a bloody hand print streaking down it, like someone had fallen against it and sunk to the floor.

In front of each was a towering street light, all of them glowing like the sun. It hurt his eyes to look.

Anthony walked out across a small sports oval before he reached the first house. It was one of the newer ones, and didn't seem to have been touched. He headed up its path to the front door and, without thinking, knocked on it.

He laughed to himself as he realised what he'd done.

"God, I am an idiot." He said.

"Yeah, you are."

Anthony whirled around, fumbling for the handgun that rested in his pocket.

Girl #17, June, and Boy #20, Angel, lay together, heads rested against one another, staring up at the nearly full moon.

The two hadn't spoken in a while.

Until…

"You know," June said, "In Japan, they broadcast their Battle Royale on TV."

Angel gasped and sat up straight. The silence had been…confusing, yet comfortable, and this new revelation through that out.

"What do you mean?!" He said, "I thought you didn't know about this!"

"I lied. I didn't want to talk about it…" She whispered, "But I've been thinking. And I guess you don't know about, _The Program_."

Angel shook his head.

She made a weak smile, "I saw an episode of it when I was home in Thailand. They show everything, every little thing. When they die, people watch it…for fun." A tear rolled down her cheek, "It's their highest rated program Angel, and they make DVDs of it." She sobbed, "My, my suh-sister bought one. My daddy made bets on who'd win…and she lost…what's he gonna do when he finds out? DOES HE ALREADY KNOW? ANGEL! WE'RE GONNA DIE!"

June fell against Angel's chest, burying her face deep into his blazer.

"June," He said, hugging her, "I promise, I _promise_, I'll never let anyone hurt you. No one. Ever."

She looked up at him, tears still streaming down her face, "How can you promise that? How do we know someone's not gonna sneak up behind us and shoot us five minutes from now!"

"I just do, okay?" He said, pulling her closer. At the same time he made sure the Glock Machine-pistol Girl #13, Sarah, had given him was still nearby.

"Why do you care?"

After a moment he whispered, "Because I love you."

Girl #15, Jessica, flinched when she heard him speak those words.

_Oh you're asking for it, June,_ She thought, _you are so going to regret the day you stole a guy from Jessica. _

_But he was never yours…_

_SHUT-UP!_

Next to her, Sarah still slept peacefully.

"I was wondering when I'd see you."

Boy #2, Anthony, gulped as he stared at the gun barrel pointed at his chest.

He looked up into the eyes of its owner and felt a sickly wave of cold fear wash over him.

"Sam…" He whispered.

Girl #14, Maddy lay silently, staring up at the starry night sky. She'd never gotten a chance to just look at them, with no distraction. It was serene…calming. It almost let her forget about where she was.

It still hurt a little to breathe, but she knew she was out of the woods. She thought she'd be okay. That was until she heard the rat-a-tat-tat of a submachine gun.

Boy #18, Dan was more frustrated than he had been when his computer had crashed without saving his thesis on photosynthesis (which had been five hundred words too long). He'd come across at least five of his classmates, and each time he'd failed to kill them. And he couldn't figure out why. It didn't take any special skill to put a gun to someone's head and pull the trigger, except perhaps the lack of a conscience or soul (both of which he possessed, even if they were twisted beyond recognition).

_Maybe, _he thought, _Just maybe, it's because you don't really want to kill them…maybe…maybe you really…can't do it. _

Girl #3, Stephanie hadn't really noticed how disastrous her losing her UZI was until she was attacked by her injured classmate. The sickle she'd taken was nowhere near enough to recoup her loses. What good was a weapon when you had to be within arm's reach of them? How was a sickle supposed to help her fight off whoever had her gun? And what if someone had a bazooka, she'd have no chance.

Stephanie's thoughts had most definitely changed from _I've gotta find a way out of here _to _I've gotta save my own ass._ _No matter what the cost. _It was really that simple.

"Yeah…Sam!" Boy #1, Sam, said, pointing the MAC-10 at Anthony's chest and laughing, "And you're Anthony, my bestest friend in the whole wide world!" Sarcasm dripped from every word.

Anthony turned around fully, and backed into the door, his hand resting on the Colt .45's hand-grip inside his pocket.

Leering maniacally, his blood-splattered friend stepped closer, saying, "Anthony…I may be insane, but I'm not stupid. Get your hand off of that gun!"

Anthony gulped and tried to lie, "What gun?"

A chunk of plaster above his head exploded, showering him with white dust. He cringed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"You're lucky I'm a good shot…" Sam said, matter-of-factly, "Who would've known? I guess I do have a talent after all!"

The two boys stared at each other.

_Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, they will be done on earAAH!!_

Boy #21, Francis screamed out in pain as his weight shifted onto his broken, bloodied and almost dead arm.

…_as it is in heaven, give us this…_

"FUCK!" He screeched into the cold night air.

An owl hooted from somewhere above him.

_Give us this day, our daily bread, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…amen. _

Anthony's gaze hadn't moved from the MAC's barrel.

"Sam,"

"Put the gun down? Is that what you're going to say?" Sam said, laughing.

The two boys were once again silent. Sam's grip tightened on the gun's handle, before his arm fell, hanging loosely by his side.

"I put it down for you…" Sam whispered. Anthony sighed with relief.

Silence again.

They stared into each other's eyes. Anthony didn't notice at the time, but Sam's seemed to hold no emotion. They were as cold and blank as those of a doll.

"Here," Sam said, gesturing with the MAC, "Sit down. Let's talk. I feel like a talk."

Not wishing to argue with the insane boy with a sub-machine gun, Anthony sat down on the front steps of the house. Sam sat cross-legged in front of him, looking up to him.

"I just want to say this now." Sam said, "I'm going to kill you, or you're going to kill me. I know it, you know it."

Anthony stared down at Sam, at a complete, terrifying loss to come up with a reason for Sam's seeming psychosis.

"And I really mean that Anthony. I can tell. I can…_feel _it. You and me, soon, are going to fight and that will be the end of one of us. Do you get me?" He said this with an entirely straight face, no sign of any faltering confidence.

"Okay," Anthony said, "I understand." And he did, he knew it. He'd long ago accepted the terms of the Battle Royale. He just wanted to find Bec. If he found Bec, it would make everything easier, and he'd know what he had to do. But he never expected to run into Sam, and he never expected to run into him like this…

"I killed them."

Anthony stopped breathing for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened in dismay.

"No…who?" Anthony finally managed to mumble.

Sam took a moment, like he was contemplating how best to say it. Eventually he just said, "Jon…Zoe. I killed Jon, took his weapon. Used it to kill Zoe, and got the gun. Then I met you. That's the story of my BR so far." As he said this, his eyes stayed locked onto Anthony's. Still, Anthony had the feeling there was just something not quite right with the boy. Like the boy he'd known, had laughed with, was gone.

"Do you hate me?" Sam asked.

Anthony was silent. Did he hate Sam? He'd killed two people; one of them was his friend! But…did he hate him?

"No," He said, after what seemed like eternity, "I don't."

Sam smiled weakly. This smile gave Anthony hope. With that simple action, a spark had returned to Sam's eyes, a glimmer of his former self. Perhaps redemption was possible after all.

"Funny," Sam said, emitting a sudden, heart-tearing pathos, "Whenever I've asked you how you felt about me, you always joked. You never spoke the truth…it hurt…more than I can say."

Anthony looked away, doing his best to avoid the stare of his friend.

"You're my friend Sam," He tried to explain, "Of course I…I sorta…you know…platonically of course…love you…sorta…" He trailed off. Inside he prayed he was saying that right things.

Sam smiled again, even weaker than before, "It's okay, you don't have to say the 'L' word."

Anthony's heart felt lighter. He was breaking though. He could feel it, he was making a connection! He had to make his next move carefully.

"Why did you kill them?" He asked.

"I had my reasons."

"What were they, then?"

Sam giggled, sighed, paused and said, "I was scared. I figured, 'I'll be the first to go'. I'm not strong, I'm not especially smart. I'm not popular, or pretty. I'm just me. And a lot of people don't like me." As he said this, his face showed his naivety and his simplistic innocence. At that moment all he was, was a fifteen year old boy scared for his life. Not a killer, not a 'contestant'…just a boy.

Anthony's gut tightened. He'd never heard Sam talk like this…EVER! So he shook his head, saying "That's not true, plenty of people like you…Sophie, Steph, Calin…they're like, best friends with you. And that's just this class!"

"Yeah, and then there's Ben, Veronica, Darren and Stu, who hate me more than I can say. And that's just this class!"

Anthony sighed. Sam copied. It was going to be harder than he thought to win Sam over.

"I guess I gave in to them, the government and all. They've been doing this for years, in some way or another; they probably know all the right buttons to push." Sam said, smirking, "They convince us we _have _to kill each other, that it really is a _must_."

"But it's not!" Anthony cried, "Look, if we can all just get together, and work as a team, we can beat this fucking government and get out of here. Remember what we read about on the internet?"

Sam shook his head.

"Don't you remember? A few years ago, in the Japanese BR, _three _people got away. Imagine if _everyone_ works together, we'll get out of this. We don't have to kill. Don't you believe me?"

Anthony leapt from where he sat and grabbed Sam's shoulders, holding him close. It was the closest the two had been in a long time. Once Bec had come, they'd drifted apart, as Anthony fell more in love with her with every moment. But now they were back like they were, brutally honest and comfortable. Anthony hoped it would stay that way.

_He seems so sure, _Sam thought, _how can I not trust him? How can I not believe every word that comes out of his mouth? _

"I believe you." He said, weakly.

_SAM! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?_

Anthony smiled. He'd done it, he was sure, "You're the greatest, Sam."

_I'M NOT GONNA DIE…NOT EVER!_

"Sam, the man!"

_I'm not going to kill you. Or anyone else. I intend to go to heaven…_

…_I'll get you there now…_

"Sam? Are you okay?"

_Going to heaven now, are we?_

"NO!" Sam screamed, jumping to his feet and stepping back down the front path.

"Sam, stop!" Anthony yelled, jumping to his feet and taking a few steps toward him.

_No…I've lost him!_

That tiny spark in Sam's eye, that glimmer of hope was gone.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, tears suddenly streaming from his eyes, his voice croaking as each sob came, "I killed. Twice…and I didn't care. I…_don't_ care…I'm a coward, and they're strong, they could stand up for life and I couldn't! I can't! I'M NOT GOING TO DIE! I'VE ALREADY PLAYED! And once you start you have to finish. Those are the rules. It's you or me and it's going to be FUCKING ME!" He screamed for a moment…and then stopped. Appalled at what he was doing, he stared at Anthony, at his friend. Sam knew he was going against everything he stood for when he said, "Run Tony…Please…Run…"

Anthony's thoughts ran through his head in an instant… _run…stay…run…help him! Kill him! Run…die…run!!!_

Anthony stepped backwards and turned, preparing to make a dash for the trees he'd come from.

"If I see you again I'll kill you…" Sam said, fighting back more tears.

"I know," Anthony said, saddened beyond words at the sight of his dishevelled, bloody friend.

He ran. Sam stood and watched as he disappeared into a nearby bank of trees.

This act of mercy had, in some freak way, acted like scissors to the last thread of Sam's sanity. Anthony's decision to run, to not help his friend or if necessary, _kill_ his friend, had allowed Sam to continue playing the game…playing and killing.

Girl #5, Tess, had never been lonely. She'd been alone, but she'd never felt the sensation of longing for company.

She'd always had friends. Always.

She could get dates when she wanted them, and sometimes when she didn't.

But now, she needed someone. The six hours she'd been in the game had been made so much easier with the company of Melanie. If you'd told her less than half a day ago that she'd have had her life saved by Melanie Stuart, she was have laughed in your face.

But now, they were apart. Alone, all because they chose different roads, even though they both inevitably lead to the same place on the island.

Tess, for the first time, was lonely.

Sam waited to make sure Anthony was gone, before he got up and opened the door to the house they had talked in front of. Astonishingly, inside was completely bare, barring the old mouldy couch in the living room and a desk, which was all he really needed.

He dumped his pack on the couch and walked over to the desk. It was obviously an antique, in terrible condition. He knelt down behind it and pushed with all his strength, and it slid, slowly, across the floor, over in front of the door.

"There, no one's getting in that door." He said.

He knew there was a back door, and windows, but he was just so tired he couldn't be bothered to worry about them. He collapsed on the couch and fell instantly asleep.

Boy #9, Ben, was still alone. It had been over an hour and a half since Anthony had left, and the darkness had truly settled.

In his hand he held his steak knife…in his other he held his torch.

The air was cold, and he felt damp. His ears rang with the chirps of crickets.

It all seemed so normal, so peaceful. He couldn't believe that this was the place where seven classmates had died, and thirty-four more were on death row.

So many still had to die, so many. It was just impossible to conceive that something so barbaric could be sanctioned…

He began to sob…

Girl #20, Veronica, had been furious at missing her chance to get rid of two classmates. She'd made sure never to think the words 'kill'. She chose to think of it as 'removing'.

And now, she saw her chance to 'remove' yet another classmate.

She was near the beach, she could hear the waves. And she was near someone, she could hear their sobbing.

_Cry Baby_ she thought.

She cocked her rifle and smirked.

"It's so quiet; I'm just so…alone." Ben whispered to no one in particular.

"Not anymore…" A voice said behind him.

He whirled around. There stood Veronica, sniper rifle held at her hip, like she was posing for a twisted porno magazine.

"Hey Ben, what up?"

Ben made a little shriek and jumped to his feet, backing up. He gasped as he felt cold water envelope his feet, as a wave washed over him.

"No chit-chat?" Veronica asked, "No begging for your life?" She enjoyed this part, the tormenting, something she wouldn't have gotten had she just sniped from afar.

Ben's mind raced. She had the gun pointed at him, but did she know how to use it?

_Well, if you don't do anything you're dead!_

He charged, grabbing the rifle's barrel with two hands. He pushed upward, pointing the gun up to the moon.

"FUCKER!" Veronica screamed, desperately trying to wrench the gun from his grasp.

The two struggled for a moment, before Ben got the upper hand. He span around, keeping a tight grip on the gun and threw both himself and his attacker into the knee-deep water.

Veronica hissed and floundered. Ben did the same, and both dropped the gun.

The two immediately began a frantic search for it.

Ben's fingers brushed the weapon, and for a fraction of a second he thought he'd won. But he felt it pull away, and Veronica rose from the water.

"HA!" She cried, triumphant. She squinted and made sure the gun was lined up.

"PLEASE!" Ben begged, "What are you doing?!"

Veronica's finger tightened on the trigger. A brilliant flash of light and fire erupted from the rifle's tip. A deafening crack rent the air and the rifle jerked back. The cartridge popped out of the chamber and fell into the icy water.

The bullet had travelled at far more than supersonic speed. Ben had no time to react.

It had impacted with his left cheek, the bone instantly disintegrating. The bullet didn't even slow down. It continued through the boy's head, churning through the boy's muscle, bone, eye and brain, before exploding out the back of his cranium.

A shower of blood sprayed outwards, in almost a comical, old Chinese martial arts movie way.

While the left side had been utterly annihilated, the right side of his head was still intact. However, all the skin on the remaining side was gone, leaving nothing but tendons and muscle and exposing a toothy grin to the world.

When the bullet proceeded through his head, the left side of Ben's jaw structure had been destroyed completely. As his head snapped back from the force, the lower right side opened reflexively. Bone cracked and muscle snapped, and as Ben's body fell, his remaining lower jaw tore completely from the boy's head. It hit the water a moment after his body.

The echo of the gunshot began to dissipate, and blood began to stain the calm water, as he floated with the gentle current.

Veronica didn't even bother to look for the boy's knife. It had been dropped early on, and she'd barely even noticed its existence.

But she had noticed that her rifle was out of ammo. She walked out of the water and sat down on the sand. It took her a while, but finally she reloaded the weapon and was ready to go.

Before leaving, she looked back once. Ben's body was now about five metres out in the ocean. His face was…not really a face anymore. The only thing left that really distinguished it as such was his one remaining eye which stared lifelessly at the sun.

_Loser_ was all she thought.

She smiled, proud of her work.

Boy #9, Ben, dead, 33 Remaining.

_Dear God girl, _Girl #21, Elle, thought, _what's wrong with you?_

Across from her lay the sleeping form of Girl #7, Melissa. A few feet away from her, leaning against a tree, standing sentinel, was Boy #19, Andrew.

_You're fighting for your life. It's highly likely you'll be dead in two days. WHY THE HELL ARE YOU FALLING FOR A PSYCHO LONER GOTH DUDE?_

_Because he's cute? Because he's nice?_

_Because he'll protect you?_

Her thoughts battled each other. One side of her kept saying to bury her feelings, that it would get her killed. The other told her to dive in and search for love. Soon, there were so many thoughts she couldn't tell one from the other.

_She's beautiful, _Andrew thought, _how could I not have seen it before? So innocent, so…cute…_

_You know, you really should pay more attention to your guarding duty. You're the only thing protecting these girls._

_If anything happens to them, it's your fault._

_I'll never let that happen, not to Elle, and definitely not to _her

_Not Melissa, dear, sweet Melissa._

He smiled.

Girl #4, Melanie, was worried. Worried for herself, worried for Tess, worried for her family. What had happened to them? She'd heard opposers to the Battle Royale were often hurt, or killed.

_How did it come to this? When did the government become so…evil?_

Melanie had studied the BR Movement at home. She'd heard so much about it, and she couldn't believe so many people hadn't heard of it. Of course, they were the less learned of the class, but that didn't change the facts.

Each year, 42 fifteen year olds butchered each other.

How could they not know?

_EVIL kiddies looking for MEGHAN gonna find her GONNA hurt her POKE no hope GONNA FIND HER gonna hurt her UNLESS SHE HURTS THEM FIRST what can she do there's no point IN any OF THIS oh Dear GOD everything topsy turvy la la strange place PRETTY tree HEY LOOK Bec's fallen over ha ha ha ha ha_

Girl #1, Meghan, twitched.

"Ah, fuck." Girl #2, Rebecca hissed, picking herself up from the dirt, "I can't see a thing!" She reached into her bag and pulled out the torch she'd been given. She flicked it on and looked down at what she'd tripped over.

She screamed.

There lay Jonathon, flat on his stomach, dried, stinking blood pooled around him. Flies buzzed around the gaping wound in his jaw, picking at the dead flesh.

"Oh God!" She gagged, "Not another body! Please, Jesus, STOP!"

She turned and ran.

Meghan followed, at a fast, but stumbling walk, her thoughts still a single train. She hadn't even noticed the corpse.

Rebecca's screams echoed across the island. It was one of the few things everyone on the island heard, as the wind carried the sound to every corner of the playing field.

_I wonder how Sam's doing. Oh Sam…You must feel so shitty…I mean, Jon's dead, he was like, one of your best friends!_

Girl #12, Sophie, had been walking for fifty minutes or so. Her legs were tired, and her shins were bloody from getting scratched by unseen branches, but she wasn't going to stop.

She couldn't play this game, and she definitely couldn't be alone. She had to find a friend. She had to get back with Steph; she had to find Sam, her closest friend since the sixth grade.

She loved them so much. If they died, she didn't know what she'd do.

"Hello?" Boy #12, Gavin called out, knocking on the massive metal door of the island's lighthouse.

No reply, so he entered, holding his two submachine guns, the UZI and the MP5 out in front of himself.

The lighthouse was quite new. It wasn't all that tall, probably fifteen meters at the most, but it seemed pretty safe. It was incredibly isolated. It may not have looked it, but the struggle down the slope of a rocky hill in the dark was incredibly difficult, and painful.

It was obviously not the headquarters of the Battle Royale, however. It looked like no one had been there in at least a month.

But he was too tired to head for another possible locale. So he decided to spend the rest of the night up near the light. He'd barricade the door, and relax as much as possible until morning. Provided of course, the lighthouse wasn't marked as a danger-zone.

_Oh thank God, he's asleep, _thought Boy #15, Darren.

Boy #14, Calin, was indeed asleep. He'd failed in his attempt to not rest until his boyfriend's murderer was dead himself.

And now Darren saw his chance.

"'Lana!" He whispered.

Girl #6, Alana, immediately crawled over to him, from her resting place by the cave's wall.

"Yeah, yeah baby what is it?" She asked, taking his hand.

"Are you," He started, "Are you," He had difficulty sounding out the words, "Are you sure he's safe?"

Alana was confused for a moment, "What do you mean?"

"Him, the faggot…"

Alana looked over at Calin and then back to her mangled boyfriend, "Of course, and don't say 'faggot'," She scolded.

"I think you're wro-wrong." He gasped, "He…he…"

"Darren?" She said, tightening her grip on his hand, "Are you okay?"

"Fine…" He whispered, before he slipped into a calm unconsciousness.

Alana sighed. She hoped he'd be okay, and that he'd get some rest. She wouldn't leave them alone. She'd stand as good a guard as possible. She knew she wouldn't be a match for most of the kids in the class, but she could probably hold her own, unless of course they were armed with machine-guns…

"Sorry, but there's no way to get it off." Girl #11, Chloe said, giving up on Girl #19, Emma's collar.

"Damn it!" Emma spat.

"You should probably stop fiddling with it, if you mess it up, it'll take off your head!" Girl #9, Rachael advised.

"Yeah," Emma whispered, sitting down.

The girls were silent.

"Do you think Zoe's okay? She said she'd find us," Chloe said.

Rachael shrugged.

"She'll be fine." Emma said, trying to make it seem like she wasn't worried.

"Are you okay?" Boy #7, Tom asked, squatting next to Girl #18, Felicity.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine." She said.

While Jack and Ollie made sure Zoe was left in a dignified manner, Tom had stayed with Felicity. He'd taken her from the aisle of the church and rested her in a cushioned bench in a corner by the altar. She'd left her crossbow, and he'd picked up and placed it in her lap.

"No," She said, when he did so, "You take it, you'll be better with it."

He shook his head, smiling, "It's yours. Use it to protect yourself. And you're the one with the good aim. Remember on that gay school camping trip last year, who's the one who scored perfect in the archery competition?"

Felicity giggled, albeit depressingly, "Me."

"Yeah, you." He gently 'punched' her jaw, "You little…archer…you." He couldn't thing of anything else to say, so he turned to leave.

But Felicity reached out and grabbed his arm, "Please, stay."

"Okay."

He sat down next to her, and she leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Thank-you."

33 Remain


	8. Hour 8

**©Hour 8: 33 Remaining- 8:00 pm**

"Ma'am,"

Miss Leech looked up from her game-boy, which had been the centre of her attention for the last twenty minutes.

"Yes?" She said, "What is it?"

"Boy #9's dead."

Leech nodded, "Is that all?"

The solider nodded, and Leech waved him away. She looked back down to the game and swore. She'd lost.

"Damn barrel-throwing monkey."

Boy #12, Gavin, yawned and began to pace the small bedroom of the lighthouse. He'd always noticed, when you were out in the dark with no power, you always got sleepy hours before you normally would have.

He was finding it hard to stand. His legs felt like jello, and whenever he stopped, he felt his eye-lids droop.

"Come on GAV!" He yelled, hitting himself in the head again and again, "You fall asleep and anyone could catch you!"

Gavin sighed, and sat down on the edge of the cot.

"This place sucks. And you're doing a damn fine job of stopping this thing, aren't you Gavin?" He said to himself.

Gavin reached over to the table next to the cot and brought the old-fashioned alarm clock into his torch's light. He twiddled with the dial on the back, and set the alarm for 11:45, fifteen minutes before the second report.

He lay down, head rested on the coarse, lumpy pillow, and slept.

_I, I have something to tell you._

Boy #14, Calin, twitched in his sleep. His companions didn't notice.

_What?_

He whimpered.

_I think that I'm…_

_You're what?_

…_gay…_

"Stefan…" He whispered.

_The crowd cheered as Alexandra stepped off the plane. She smiled and waved, before running over to her waiting parents. _

"_HEY MOM! HEY DAD!" She cried, wrapping her arms around them. _

"_Oh Alex, we missed you so much! SO MUCH!" _

_Tears began to fall from all three. More cheers went up from the crowd, just as the cargo door of the plane began to grind its way open. _

_It screeched and whined. The sound sent chills up Alexandra's spine. She slowly backed away from her parents and turned. _

_Standing inside it was her class. All was silent, until two of them stepped forward. It was Dave and Kris. They were crying. She could see the tears that run down their faces. _

"_DAVE! KRIS!" She called running over to them, "WE MADE IT! ALL OF US!" _

"_No we didn't." They said together. _

_Alex stopped, gasping, "What do you mean?" _

"_Why do you think we were in there? We're dead. _You _won, not us. Only one winner." _

_The two stepped apart, giving her a clear view of the rest of the students. They weren't standing, as she thought they were. They were hanging… hanging from metal nooses, the wire digging deep into their jugular. Blood flowed like wine. _

"_How could you do it?" The boys asked, "How could you kill us, _all _of us?" _

"_No," She whispered, backing away,_

"_Yes, we're all dead, and it's _all_ your fault…you killed us." The reached out towards her. Their tears turned red. _

_Alexandra screamed. _

"JESUS CHRIST!" Girl #16, Alex screamed, thrashing in the medical cot. Her arms flailed wildly, sending a metal tray next to her crashing to the floor.

Footsteps pounded outside her room, just before the door to her room was flung open.

Standing side by side in the doorway, was her two companions, Boys #4 and #5, David and Kristofer. Kris immediately rushed over to her and knelt by her side, while Dave stood in the doorway.

"Are you okay?" Kris asked, his face creased with worry lines.

"Did something happen?" Dave asked, somewhat coldly.

Alexandra's heart was pounding as she sat up and rested against the cot's pillow. She gasped for air as she tried to calm down. But she kept seeing flashes of her classmates hanging from the plane. It seemed so real.

"It was a dream," She whispered, absently.

"Yeah, it was dream, it's all okay…" Kris said, gently easing her back down.

"No it's not okay…"

The boys were puzzled.

"Only one winner…"

"Oh, God," Boy #21, Francis, moaned, writhing in agony in the dark paddock, "What did I do? Why is this happening?!"

_You tried to kill them_

_So! I'm not the only one_

_No, you aren't the only one; you aren't the only sinner…_

_I'M NOT A SINNER_

_Yes you are_

_STOP TALKING! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!_

_But you tried…remember? Ian…Alex…Kris…Dave…you tried to kill them_

_Of course I remember…they…_

_Had it coming? _

_SHUT-UP! SHUT-UP! SHUT-UP!_

"Please, just end it!"

Girl #14, Maddy, didn't know where the machine-gun fire had come from, and she didn't want to found out. As soon as she heard it she ran, as fast and as far as she could.

Finally, she stopped, panting. She'd gotten a far distance, maybe even a whole kilometre away from the firing. She slumped down onto a nearby boulder and pulled out her water. She took several deep gulps and sighed. Things weren't going to plan

"God this sucks…" She whispered to herself.

Suddenly, the darkness was lifted for merely a moment. She gasped and stumbled to her feet.

Maddy spun around, searching for where the light had come from. But she couldn't see anyone with a flashlight.

"What the hell?" She muttered.

Light enveloped her again and she squealed, terrified someone was taunting her. Then she saw it, a fair way off in the distance. The shining beacon of hope…

A lighthouse…

Girl #6, Alana, had stood guard for an hour. Her two companions, Boy #14, Calin, and Boy #15, Darren, were both sleeping. Sadly, they were sleeping restlessly. Calin was flopping around, muttering words like 'love', 'Stefan' and 'boyfriend'. Darren was whimpering over in the corner, his blazer wrapped around his legs.

She tore her eyes away from her injured boyfriend and stared at Calin. He seemed so fragile, like he could break from just being touched. She knew now that his boyfriend was dead, and how much pain he was in. It worried her. She might soon be in a similar position…and it would be her fault.

She stoop up and went to the mouth of the cave, watching the trees around them. She hadn't heard a thing in twenty minutes. She'd thought someone was coming, but it turned out to be a possum.

"God, three days…" She whispered, "Three days and we're dead."

Girl #20, Veronica, was very pleased with herself. Ben was dead, by her hand. Another one down, how many more to go?

Satisfied with the night's work, she began a search for somewhere to stay. After searching for half an hour, or thereabouts, she abandoned the search and sat down underneath a tree.

The afternoon's storm was now completely gone. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, giving full view of the stars, away from the harsh lights of the city where she lived.

Just as she was falling asleep, she noticed something in the sky above her. Eight red stars glittered in the sky. It almost looked like a constellation that was missing something.

It slipped from her mind, as her eyes fluttered closed.

Boy #20, Angel smiled as he stared at the sleeping face of Girl #17, June. She'd cried for ten minutes or so, but she'd drifted off soon after she stopped. She'd now been sleeping for at least forty minutes.

Angel didn't mind. She was so…peaceful. Regardless of the killing and the violence and imminent death, she still slept the same.

She still breathed heavily, wriggled around and occasionally snorted, just like she had before.

It was no different now than it had ever been.

That was until her face scrunched up and she began to whimper and twitch. She kicked with her legs, like she was trying to run from something.

Angel made a small smile and leant down, kissing her softly on the forehead.

June soon calmed down and slept even more soundly than she had before.

Across from them sat Girl #15, Jessica. Her arms were folded in front of her and her brow was furrowed. She was still fuming, and she didn't even know it.

_Goddamn I hate her_

_Shouldn't you be more worried about your life?_

_Fucking bitch_

_You could _die _at any time and you're worried about June stealing you non-boyfriend?_

Jessica still fumed.

Next to her, Girl #13, Sarah, still slept.

Girl #5, Tess, couldn't believe how stupid she'd been. The path she'd chosen _had _been the wrong one. Not because it was difficult, or took her somewhere she didn't want to be, but because Melanie wasn't on it.

Melanie had been the one who saved her life. If it wasn't for her, Tess would be dead, and Tess knew it.

_I've gotta get back to her, I mean, I've _got _to. _

One kilometre away, Girl #4, Melanie, was thinking much the same thing. She'd sat down underneath an enormous willow tree, and began twiddling her flashlight, shining the light at the stars.

And then the exact same thoughts came upon her. She _needed _Tess, they'd been together since the start, and they had to find each other once more.

Girl #12, Sophie, had stopped searching for her friends and decided to find a place to spend the night, a place out of the way.

_Man, when there aren't any lights, you sure do get tired quickly, damn._

According to her map and compass, there was quite a large, square building ahead. Figuring that that was as safe a place as any to sleep, she pocketed her map, and held her machete out in front of her.

Cautiously, she squeezed through a hedge and found herself in front of a general store. The building wasn't all that big, it was two stories tall, and the entire thing was only as big as a well-sized, Fish & Chips shop. A battered sign rested on top of the entrance arch that read _Landon's General Store: Your one stop spot to shop for all your needs._ At each of its four corners was a street lamp. Three of them were broken, but one still provided a dim amount of light, just above the main entrance.

She paused and checked to see if anyone was around. Seeing no one, she crept forward and reached out for the building's door's handle. She jiggled it for a moment and swore. It was locked.

Sophie paused once again, before stepping back into the pathway that ran around the building. Bending down she picked up a sizeable rock and guessed its weight. She looked back up at the glass door.

"Here goes nothing," She said to herself. Pulling her arm back, she pitched the rock at the door. The glass shattered with a crash Sophie swore was so loud it could wake someone on the other side of the island. She poked her head inside, checking again whether anyone was inside, before she reached in and unlocked the door from the inside.

But as she pulled her arm out of the window, a jagged piece of glass that jutted up from the window sill dug into her right arm, cutting down almost to the bone, allowing blood to flow freely.

"AH! SHIT!" Sophie hissed, pushing the door open. She stumbled inside and dropped her bags.

She slumped to the ground, kicking the door closed as she did so, and pulled off her blazer, and then her shirt. She took the left sleeve of her shirt and shredded it, before wrapping it tightly around her wound.

"Shit, this better not get infected," She whispered to herself, wiping the blood off with her other hand. "Goddamn this stings."

She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain to pass.

Soon, the razor sharp edge of the pain became a dull numbness, and Sophie opened her eyes, taking in her first real view of where she was.

To the left of the entrance was the counter. On it were a bunch of long out-dated magazines and probably long-expired candy, as well as the aging cash register.

The room was divided into aisles, like a supermarket. Closest to her was the cleaning equipment, and further back she could see some tinned food.

To the right was where the vegetables and fruits would've been, but they'd since rotted away to pulp.

Far up the back was a stair-case, with a sign on the banister that said: _Clothes, electronics upstairs. _

Sophie decided that was probably the safest place to be. She picked herself and her bags up from the ground and heaved herself over to the stairs. She peered up them and smiled. At the top was a massive steel door that was hanging open. If she could close and lock it, nobody would be able to get in.

She struggled up the stairs and collapsed in a heap as soon as she'd pulled her legs through the doorway. She reached out with her foot and pushed the door closed.

_Finally, safe_

_You think you can be safe in this game?_

_Don't ask questions you know the answer to_

_Do you?_

_Yes_

_You're lying._

Sophie sighed as she slipped the pin into the door's lock.

"Well, I'm as safe as I'll ever be."

_So, how're things?_

_Good_

_You're doing well, already killed two!_

_Did I?_

_Oh yeah, you've got the most kills so far. _

_Is that good?_

_What do you think?_

…………………

_Well, what _do _you think? Is it good?_

_Yes…I think…yes…it is good…_

_Why?_

_I don't want to die…_

"…don't…want to…die…" Boy #1, Sam, muttered in his sleep.

Boy #2, Anthony, was having a hard time going in a straight line. He'd dropped his torch back when he was attacked by Sam, and he had no idea where he was going.

_Jesus Christ, SAM! What happened to you?_

He stumbled over a tree root, and just managed to save himself from falling flat on his face.

"Ow, shit, god damn it!"

He gasped and clasped his hands to his mouth in shock. He hadn't meant to let those last three words out.

"Whoopsy." He said.

Suddenly, his eyes burned, as a painfully bright light was shined in his face.

"WHO IS THAT?" Anthony cried, putting up his arms to cover his eyes.

"It's me…"

_Well, what if you can't kill them? _

_Why wouldn't I be able to kill them?_

_You're weak, not a quick thinker…_

_That doesn't matter, I could beat them._

_Would you have been able to kill Andrew?_

_Maybe, I have a gun…_

_That's not what I meant. If it had been one on one, what would you have done?_

…………………

"Oh God, what would I have done? What am I _doing_?" muttered Boy #18, Dan, "I can't win…shouldn't bother…"

"Okay, Steph, what've you got to do?" Girl #3, Stephanie, said to herself, "You can either find Soph again, or someone else. Or…you could play to win."

She paused for a moment, twirling her flashlight in her hand. Then, without warning, she screamed out in anger and hurled her sickle at the nearest tree. The blade embedded itself in the tree, and an owl out of its branches and up into the sky.

"Hey, Tom…" Boy #6, Jack, asked squatting beside the pew.

"What?" Boy #7, Tom inquired.

"Where are we?" He asked, "I dropped my map ages ago, when we were still walking around."

"Oh…" Tom said, sliding out from underneath the sleeping Girl #18, Felicity, "It's right here," He said, pointing at the map's cross that indicated the church's location, halfway down the west coast.

"So how far away is the danger zone?"

Tom scanned the map for where he'd marked the Danger Zone, and found it in the north-west corner of the island.

"So we're a fair way away from it then?" Jack checked.

Tom nodded.

"Cool," Jack finished, before he headed back to where Boy #11, Oliver, lay sleeping.

Tom sat on the edge of the pew for a moment, thinking, before he slid back into his position with Felicity's arms draped over him. He liked that position.

"Oh my God, ANDREW!" Anthony cried.

"Tony!" Boy #19, Andrew yelled back. He lowered his flashlight and immediately asked, "What happened? What's with the blood?" He seemed wary.

Tony looked down at himself and spotted what Andrew was talking about. On his left side, blood had soaked into his white school shirt. He was puzzled at how it could've got there.

"Oh, yeah," He said, "I…ran into Sam…he was…_covered _in blood…he must've gotten some on me…I guess…" He wasn't sure Andrew would accept that, but couldn't think of another reason to explain it.

Evidently it had worked, as Andrew then said, "What weapon did you get? Who's with you?"

"This handgun," Tony said, holding up the .45, "And I left Ben a couple of hours ago, but I'm sure he's fine."

"Awesome!"

"What'd you get then?" Anthony asked.

"_I _got a switch-blade, but the girls got a tazer and a Deagle." Andrew answered.

"Which girls?"

Girl #2, Bec, was frustrated. The love of her life was nowhere to be found, and the darkness was making her sleepy.

Behind her, Girl #1, Meghan, was still struggling to make connections between each random thought she had.

_Ha ha Kylie sucks well isn't this a crappy place I wonder who'll die next I hope it's not me cause that would just SUCK and oh look Bec's crying hahahahaha_

Girl #9, Rachael, and Girl #11, Chloe, were hesitant in the idea of going to sleep, but their companion, Girl #19, Emma, had convinced them it was a good one.

"Come on, you need your strength!" She explained, "And you're not gonna get it by staring off into space for twelve hours. Look, just lay down your heads, that's all I'm asking."

"What happens if something comes along in the night?" Rachael asked.

"I'll use this!" Emma held up the sawn-off shotgun, flashing a confident smile.

"You know how to use it, right?" Chloe inquired.

"Oh, sure!" Emma said, nodding, "I just point it at whatever's trying to kill us, and pull the trigger until it goes away! Yes, I'm confident I can use it."

The two girls gave each other puzzled looks, and then both shrugged and agreed to sleep.

After twenty minutes or so, the pair were snoring like babies.

_Finally, they're asleep._

_What are you going to do? Kill them?_

_Of course not!_

_Then what?_

_I'm going away. If we make it to the end, we'll have to kill each other, simple as that._

_Right…_

_So, I'm going to avoid killing them, by leaving. Make sense?_

Emma gave one last look at the sleeping pair, and then silently snuck away from the campsite, her pack in one hand and her shotgun in the other.

"Anthony!" Girl #21, Elle cried, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tight, "It's so great you're okay!"

"Yeah, you too!" Anthony said, lying through his teeth. He'd always thought Elle was a stuck-up bitch, and he'd never even touched her before, so this hug was a bit out of the blue. "Oh, hey Melissa!"

"Wha-?" Girl #7, Melissa, mumbled, as she stirred from her sleep, "Oh, TONY!"

"Yeah, it's me!"

The four of them talked for a while, Anthony telling them who he was looking for, and Andrew telling him what had happened since the game had begun.

By the end, all four were silent.

"So," Andrew said, breaking the awkwardness, "What're you going to do about Bec?"

"I'll wait here for an hour or two, and then start looking. If it's not too much to ask, could I borrow one of you guys' torches? I lost mine after Sam."

"Sure," Andrew said, handing his over immediately.

"Thanks…"

33 Remain.


	9. Hour 9

**©Hour 9: 33 Remaining- 9:00 pm DAY 1**

"Report soldier!" Leech snapped, throwing her dead game boy to the ground.

The nearest recruit to her, a fair-skinned boy no older than eighteen, snapped to attention and stuttered, "No news to report…mu-muh-ma'am."

Leech swore and kicked over a nearby chair.

"Hurry up you little shits." She whispered.

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"So…Sam's…killing?" Girl #7, Melissa whispered.

Boy #2, Anthony, nodded, taking a long gulp of water.

Girl #21, Elle, was crying. Sam had been one of her friends. She really didn't care that Jonathon and Zoe were dead (she'd never been friends with them in the slightest) but she was astonished at Sam's willingness to start killing. It didn't fit at all.

"That's so, out there…" Boy #19, Andrew, whispered.

Anthony shrugged and drank again.

The four were quiet for a moment.

"So, when are you going to go and find Bec?" Melissa asked, breaking the silence.

"Pretty soon, I'll rest a little while longer. Definitely before the next report…" He said.

"Who…who do you think'll be…gone…when it comes?" Elle whispered, from her seat underneath a sakura tree.

Melissa gasped. She hadn't thought about it in a while. There'd been seven dead in the first six hours, how many after twelve?

"Well…Zo-Zoe'll be on it, won't she?" Andrew muttered. Anthony nodded, "And…if he's met anyone else…they'll be on it…"

"Unless they got him first…" Melissa pointed out.

Anthony shook his head, "I don't think so. I think Sam's gonna be a shoot first and never ask questions kinda…contestant."

_Definitely, apart from you, who's he got here? Why would he even bother asking questions…_

Anthony sighed.

"You think he might win?" Elle asked, hesitantly.

"Knowing Sam…probably not," He said with a little laugh, "He'll screw up. He always does."

Elle was taken aback, and muttered very low underneath her breath, "What confidence you have in your friend's ability…jerk…"

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_You've got to choose. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?_

_SHUT-UP_

Girl #3, Stephanie had been wrestling with herself over the situation She was alone, with a relatively OK weapon. But she knew now that at least one person had two sub-machine guns, and that some people were most definitely playing.

But, she couldn't decide whether _she _should play or not.

_If I play, I'm a murderer._

_True_

_But if I don't…I'll die_

_Also true_

_SO WHICH DO I CHOOSE?_

_I don't know, but you've got to decide. Otherwise…_

_Otherwise what?_

_You'll get killed._

Stephanie rolled the sickle around her hands, and bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

_What if…_

_What if what?_

_What if, I just, walked around, and, wouldn't attack…_

_Yes_

_But would, you know defend myself…would that work?_

………

_Well…would it?_

………

_WOULD IT!_

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"God FUCKING damn it!" Girl #2, Rebecca, screeched, slamming her designated weapon, a frying pan, into the nearest tree, "WHERE IS HE! WHERE…Where…where…Oh…GOD!" She slumped to the dirt and rested against a bush. "How can I…not find him?"

Behind her, Girl #1, Meghan, was still muttering under her breath, as her thoughts slowly became tangled, and continued to run into each other.

_Oh look she's crying too bad my it is quite dark innit ha ha, innit, I'm just gonna have to go and comfort her like hell I'm gonna do that might as well kill her she's not going to win pfft neither am I this is impossible I don't know what's going on three days one survives kill Kill KILL!!_

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Ahead of her, Girl #14, Madeline, could see the impressive silhouette of the island's lighthouse. It was about a kilometre away, and surrounded by hills, hills that would undoubtedly be treacherous at this time of night.

Each time its light rotated past her, it gave her a clear view of what she was facing, and it definitely helped. If it hadn't been for the light she would've fallen into a huge ditch and probably broken a leg.

"Well, I'm close enough. I'll just take a break." She said to herself, and sat cross-legged in the dirt, "Just a minute to catch my breath…"

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"Alone and loving it," Girl #19, Emma laughed, leaping over a shrub.

Since she'd left Rachael and Chloe, Emma had found her mood quite up-beat for a situation like this.

She hit the ground running, laughing gleefully. These could be her last moments, and she wanted to enjoy them.

After running for a few minutes, she tired and slipped underneath some branches of a nearby tree. Pulling out her map and torch, Emma began to plan her strategy.

"OK," She started, "There's only so many places someone could be. Seven are already gone, but where are they?" She made an 'hmm' noise and then said, "There'd probably be a lot of idiots staying in buildings, and probably at the health clinic and stuff. I guess that's where I'll go."

_And what will you do when you get there?_

………

_Will you kill them?_

_Depends…_

_On?_

_If they piss me off…I will…_

Emma shuddered, as she crawled out from underneath the branches. Just as she did so, she heard a shrill scream, from somewhere behind her.

_First catch of the day…_

She started to run…

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"MEGHAN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Bec screamed while throwing herself to the ground, as Meghan's hunting knife whizzed over her head.

Meghan stumbled and spun around, saliva drooling down her face, and a wild look in her eyes.

Bec scrambled backwards to her pack, not able to understand what had happened to her friend. They'd been standing by a tree when all of a sudden Meghan had dug inside her bag and produced the knife.

"Meghan, please, _why _are you doing this?" Bec pleaded, as she searched in her bag for the frying pan, only to realise she'd dropped it after 'attacking' the tree.

Meghan laughed, holding the knife out in front of her.

"Oh, I'm just looking out for number one! YEAH! Number one! MEGHAN NUMBER ONE! Bec comes in at second oh yes!' Meghan giggled, skipping merrily over to her prey. She leaned down and held the knife at Bec's jugular, "Gonna make sure I win, no two-bit whore's gonna beat me!"

"You're insane!" Bec hissed, and with that, she lifted her leg and kicked Meghan square in the stomach.

She shrieked and fell backwards, clutching her gut. Bec rolled over and scrambled over to where her pan lay.

Her hands closed around the handle and she jumped up to her feet, turning to face her attacker.

Meghan had stood, and the two were now staring each other intensely.

"Meghan, what happened?"

"Nothing Rebecca, absolutely nothing." Meghan said, throwing her knife from one hand to another.

"Then why are you trying to kill me?"

"To save myself."

Meghan charged, giving a piercing battle cry that would put a Valkyrie to shame.

Rebecca screamed and tried to dodge the knife's swing, but she was too slow. The blade slashed across her shoulder, cutting deep. Bec moaned and held up her pan to counter Meghan's next attack. This time the knife bounced off of the metal, and Meghan fell back.

Seeing this, Bec stepped forward to try to intimidate Meghan into standing down. It didn't work as well as she'd hoped, as Meghan just began her attack again.

Meghan shrieked again, and tried to stab at Bec once more. In a last ditch attempt, Bec swung her pan and looked away, terrified that these were her last moments.

She heard a clang, and she opened her eyes. Meghan was howling with pain. The knife was in the dirt.

"You bitch!" Meghan hissed, and charged forward again, murder glinting in her eyes.

This time, Bec didn't even think, she just did it. She put all her strength into her swing, and prayed that it would stop her. And it did.

The pan smashed into Meghan's skull, and she was instantly knocked unconscious. Had she been taken to hospital, she would've been in a permanent coma. But Bec didn't stop there. Overcome by rage and terror, she struck again and again, bringing the frying pan down on Meghan's life-less body again and again. Tears came thick and fast as Bec struck so many times that Meghan's face was no longer recognisable. It was just a spongy, red mass, with the occasional yellowed piece of skull jutting out from it. One of her eyes had become dislodged from its socket, and now rested in the centre of her face, where the pan had created a pit of sorts in her skull.

Soon, Bec couldn't do it anymore. She slumped down onto her knees and moaned in despair.

_Oh my God, I killed her…She attacked me and I killed her…_

Girl #1, Meghan, dead, 32 Remaining.

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"Oh God, this…HURTS!" Boy #21, Francis screeched, struggling to crawl a mere five metres, "PLEASE! STOP!"

He'd been crawling for twenty minutes, and he'd made it out of the field, and over to the nearest bank of trees. He'd lost his torch long before hand, and he now had now idea where he was.

He felt around with his good arm to find a way to pull himself under the trees.

His hand gripped a sturdy branch and he smiled. Finally, something was going his way.

He lifted himself up, and slid over to where he wanted to be, and let go.

But he didn't fall a few inches to the ground, as he expected too.

He fell, hard, down yet another steep, rocky, concealed hill.

Francis yowled in pain as his broken arm smashed against the earth again and again and again.

Finally, he came to a stop. Blood was now dripping from his fore-head, and his pain was now so intense he couldn't feel it in one specific place.

Francis managed to stave off unconsciousness for a few minutes, but all too soon, his vision turned fuzzy, and he slipped into sleep.

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Boy #12, Gavin, whimpered in his sleep…

_The sky was gloomy, the air cold. As the sun slipped behind one of the gathering storm clouds, the enormous wrought-iron gates began to creak open._

_The hearse slowly made its way up the cemetery's main road, to the freshly dug grave, where the few mourners stood, dressed in black. It pulled up beside the group, and its driver got out opening the back and removing the casket. _

_With help from three others, the casket was brought out and placed into its position by the hole. _

_The priest looked around, before he began the service…_

…"…_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…" The priest closed the Bible and solemnly walked away from the group, as the casket was slowly lowered into the earth. _

_A woman sobbed, and her husband put his arm around her, and led her away, as the two grave-diggers began to fill in the dirt._

_It took a couple of hours, but soon the grave was filled, and the fake grass placed on top._

_One of the diggers looked over to the tombstone that stood ominously at the end of the grave. _

"_God, how many of these kids have we buried in the last week?" The first digger said._

"_Forty-one," The second said, "Forty-two went in, forty-two came back. All but one in a body-bag."_

_The pair fell silent. _

"_Let's go," The first said. The other nodded, and they left, being careful not to walk over any graves._

"_Wait," The second digger said, "I'll be back."_

_He jogged back to the grave they'd just dug, and pulled a note-book out from his back pocket._

"_Gotta get their names, I won't let them be forgotten," He muttered, jotting down the details:_

_Here lies _

_The body_

_Of_

Gavin Hawkins

_Beloved anarchist_

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Boy #1, Sam's eyes fluttered open, after just over an hour of sleep. Despite that, he felt completely rejuvenated. Insanity didn't need much to keep itself going.

"All right," He said, "Here I am, ready and raring to go. Our number's are dwindling fast, but not fast enough…" He laughed at this, "Man, do I sound like a clichéd horror movie character or what?"

Still laughing, he picked up his bag, nail-gun, fork and MAC-10 and left the small building in which he'd taken shelter.

_And so the hunt begins again…_

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Girls #9 and #11, Rachael and Chloe, had awoken, expecting to find their companion Emma standing watch. Instead, they'd found nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"WHERE DID SHE GO?!" Rachael cried.

"I don't know, oh God!" Chloe whimpered, hands over her mouth, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Did someone get her?" Rachael asked, hopping up and down and looking around for danger.

Chloe looked at where she'd last seen Emma. There was no sign of disturbance.

"It doesn't look like there's been a fight, and there's no body or anything. And…her stuff's all gone…" Chloe pointed out.

Rachael gasped, "You mean…she left on purpose! WHY? WHY WOULD SHE DO THAT?"

Chloe had an idea…

_You're going to play, aren't you Emma? _

She sighed.

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"Goddammit, I've only been away from her a couple of hours at the most. Why can't I find her?" Girl #4, Melanie, hissed.

She'd back-tracked to the point where she and Tess had separated, and gone on up the path she hadn't taken. She'd expected to catch up within half an hour or so. After all, Tess liked to take frequent and very long breaks. But she hadn't. And she couldn't stand it. Not one bit.

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Her quarry, Girl #5, Tess, for once, hadn't had a break for over an hour. Her desire to fulfil her goal was insatiable.

_She _hadn't turned to follow her path back to where they'd split. She'd turned left, and began a difficult bush-bash, thinking she could cut Melanie off and meet up.

But she was wrong, they were now stuck, and their chances of finding each other were low.

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_Oh God, what have I done? This is all my fault._

Girl #6, Alana, wept as she knelt over her nearly comatose boyfriend Boy #15, Darren. He'd rolled over and she had feared his wound dressings would've come undone, so she'd gotten up to check it. But things were okay, so she'd sat down and began to think about what she could be doing if she _hadn't _jammed her hatchet into his stomach.

This had distressed her. She couldn't bear it; his pain was almost all because of her. She still didn't know what happened to the boy's eye, but it had to be less painful then the gaping wound in his chest. It had to be. Because the gaping chest wound was because of the girl he just wanted to protect!

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Stephanie was being cautious as she peered around the corner of a small concrete building. She'd checked, and no one was there, but someone could easily be about…just hiding.

She hopped forward, her sickle out in front, and poked her head around a tree.

"Okay, no one _there _either." She whispered, and stepped over a shrub.

Stephanie walked forwards for a few minutes, checking every few minutes to make sure no one was about.

When she looked behind her and shined her torch, she realised that she'd gone almost five hundred metres from the building. It hadn't seemed that far.

She turned back, surprised at her speed, and almost ran straight into a tree.

"Oh, whoopsy." She said, laughing.

She stepped around the tree, still giggling like a young girl, and then screamed.

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Boy #18, Dan, was curious about how many more had died since the last report. He hadn't seen or heard anything for a long while, and he was concerned that maybe the time limit would expire before everyone was dead.

"Well, I've just got to make sure that that doesn't happen." He said, firmly. Now, he, like Sam before him, began the hunt again. However, he wasn't quite as sure about it as he had been. Would he even be able to kill anyone if the chance came up? Was he really a killer?

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Girl #20, Veronica, had awoken from her light sleep to see someone a dozen metres ahead, just a vague shape in the shadows with a torch in hand.

Ever so quietly, she pulled her rifle closer, and inched forward, until she was at the base of a tree. She checked the ammo, made sure the safety was off, and waited.

There was a thump from the other side of the tree, and someone said something unintelligible, before they walked around to Veronica's side.

Veronica smirked, and jumped out from behind the tree, and pointed her rifle at where she knew this unknown person was going to appear. The person screamed the moment they saw the gun and jumped to the side. Veronica laughed and followed, trying to catch a glimpse of who it was.

Their torch fell to the ground, and the light shone upon the person's face.

"Stephanie Weaver, hello!" Veronica cried, after seeing who it was.

Stephanie gasped, "VERONICA!"

"Yeah, it's me." She said, arrogantly.

"What are you doing!?" Steph spat.

Veronica gave a cackling laugh, "Playing the game. Playing to win. Already played, played Ben big time."

Stephanie shuddered, "You killed him…"

Veronica nodded, laughing, "And now, I'm gonna kill you!"

Not waiting to give Veronica a chance, Stephanie kicked out, her foot connecting directly with Veronica's shin. Veronica shrieked in pain and fell to the ground, clutching at her bruising ankle. Steph scrambled to her feet and took off running.

"BITCH!" Veronica screeched, desperately trying to aim with the sniper rifle, "DIE!"

She fired twice, the rifle knocking her back to the ground.

The bullets exploded above Stephanie's head and she screamed again, ducking away from them.

"FINE!" Veronica shouted after her, as she disappeared into the darkness, "I'll kill you eventually! You just wait!"

She whimpered, and leant onto the tree.

"Damn," She whispered, "Missed another one."

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Boy #20, Angel, had been quite happy to watch Girl #17, June, sleeping, her head rested on his lap. But he'd been even happier once she'd woken up.

"Hey there," He said.

June giggled and smiled up at him, "Hey back."

She sat up and stretched, before she locked lips with Angel again.

After a moment, she pulled away and asked, "How long was I out?"

"A couple of hours I guess," Angel answered, hugging her tighter, "You were so cute!"

June blushed and shoved his arm playfully.

They kissed once more, this time longer, more loving.

Eventually, Angel pushed away and said, "You know, I've been thinking."

"About?"

"Well, if we're really going to find a way out of this, there's not much point in staying in one place and waiting for the answer to fall into our laps, 'cause it's not gonna happen." He explained, and June nodded, "So, what if we went out to find some other people. To you know, ask for their help. It would make it so much easier!"

June considered this, and smiled, "Well, that makes sense. Yeah!" She smiled, but her smile quickly faded, "But what if…we meet the wrong people?"

Angel shrugged, "Then we meet the wrong people," At this, he turned to face her and looked directly into her eyes, "But know this. I will never, _never_ let anything happen to you…_ever_. You know that don't you?"

June's smiled broadened and her heart swelled with emotion, "Oh, Angel, of course I know!" She leapt at him and hugged him tighter, never wanting to let go.

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"_CALIN!" _

_Calin looked up from his comic book and into the eyes of someone he'd had a crush on since the beginning of forever…Stefan Trent. But as soon as Calin realised who it was, he turned his head away, as his face had flushed with colour, like it always did when _he _was around._

"_What?" Calin asked, still not looking up. _

"_Um, I have something to say to you." Stefan said, sitting down on one of the school's more comfortable common-room chairs. He waited a moment before saying, "And you have to be looking at me when I tell you."_

_Calin turned a deeper shade of red and slowly looked up at Stefan. _

"_What do you have to say?" _

"_Well, I've been thinking about it for a long time, and I've come to a realisation. Everyone will find out, but I wanted to tell you first. You've been my friend forever; you deserve to hear it from me." _

_Calin smiled and patted his friend on the back in encouragement (not noticing that Stefan had flushed as soon as he'd touched him), "Go on! Tell me!"_

_Stefan gulped, before saying, in one breath, "I've come to the conclusion that I am gay." As soon as the last word had escaped from him, he clapped his hands to his mouth in shock, "Did I just tell you that?!" _

_Calin was silent. _

_Stefan was terrified. He was certain Calin would hate him now, after all, who could possibly like a faggot?_

"_Ca-Calin are you okay?" Stefan stuttered, "If you're not cool with it…"_

_Calin's mind was racing. Had he really just heard Stefan come out to him? _

"_Calin, I, I'm sorry." Stefan whispered, "I'm sorry…" _

"_Stefan…" Calin stuttered, "I…" _

"_Yeah, YEAH?!" _

_Calin couldn't find the words. So he did the first thing that came to mind…_

_He leapt across the table and planted his lips on Stefan's…_

"_Oh, Stefan!" He whispered, "You've made me so happy…I love you…"_

"_GET OFF ME!" Stefan shrieked suddenly, pushing Calin away. _

"_Wha-What?!" Calin snapped, "WHAT!" _

_Calin stopped. Stefan was crying. _

_But the tears weren't clear; they were as black as ink. _

"_Stefan…" Calin whispered, standing up._

"_You have to wake up, Calin…you have to wake up…" _

Boy #14, Calin, awoke; his school shirt soaked clear with sweat and panting like there was no tomorrow.

"Stefan…Oh God…"

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Boy #7, Tom, had been at first been quite comfortable with Girl #19, Felicity, lying all over him. But as night had sunk in, the temperature in the church seemed to inexplicably become hotter and hotter. Eventually, Tom was sweating profusely, and was red in the face. So before he metaphorically melted down, he slid out from underneath her and headed over to the front door.

But before he reached it, he heard footsteps outside. Tom's body tensed and he began a quick and desperate search for one of the weapons they had stored.

Before he could find it though, the door creaked open. Tom whirled around, fists at the ready to fight off some attacker, but, as it turned out, it was only Boy #6, Jack.

"Oh God! You scared the shit out of me!" Tom said, trying to regain his breath.

"Sorry, I was," Jack looked down at his feet, "I was just sitting outside."

Tom nodded, "Yeah, I was just gonna go out there. Think you can sit a little while longer?"

"Sure."

The two boys sighed together and stepped back outside, shutting the door behind them.

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Inside, Boy #11, Oliver's eyes snapped open. He shot a look at the now closed door, through which Tom and Jack had left. His eyes now darted over to where Felicity lay sleeping. On the floor next to her, lay the group's only really decent weapon: the crossbow.

_Look, it's just sitting there!_

_So what?_

_Take it! Hide it! Use it to protect yourself!_

_NO!_

_Why not?_

_Because, I won't need it. We're gonna get out of here._

_A lot of kids have said that in this thing. You know where they are?_

_At home watching cartoons?_

_Dead. So take it, and live!_

Ollie gulped and slowly began to crawl over towards Felicity and her crossbow.

He stretched out his arm to grab the weapon…his fingers fluttered over the arrow, the string, the handle, when suddenly, the front door began to open, and Ollie heard the sounds of Tom and Jack talking.

Acting quickly, Ollie hopped to his feet and stepped away from Felicity.

"Oh," Tom said, after shutting the door behind him, "I thought you were asleep."

"I was, but, well. Surprise." Ollie said, hoping that they didn't realise something was up.

"Cool." Tom said, thinking nothing of it.

_Okay, okay, I'll take the crossbow…later._

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"Come on, where are you, fuckers!" Emma whispered beneath her breath. After she'd heard the scream and begun to pursue, she hadn't heard another peep. She was sure she was going in the right direction, but where _were _they?

She pushed some ferns aside with her shotgun, when an over-powering stench came upon her.

"Oh my God! What the hell is that smell?" She said, clapping her hands to her nose.

Emma stepped forward, cautiously, pointing the sawn-off this way and that. She couldn't find where it was coming from.

That was until she looked down. There on the ground, was a dead girl, a girl so mangled she couldn't tell who it was. She edged closer and was hit by another wave of disgusting odours. Whoever it was, they'd been dead almost an hour.

Coming even closer, Emma saw the girl's handbag, a small _Hello Kitty _spaghetti-string concoction. She recognised it instantly.

"Meghan…" She whispered, "Who did this to you?"

That's when she saw the other bag. Bigger, and gaudier, it had been flashed around many times by its owner.

"Rebecca." Emma muttered.

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Bec had taken a while to recover. Once she had, she'd become incredibly frightful. She was certain someone was going to appear and shout 'murder' and hand her over to the police. But that person never came.

Instead, Bec had fled, taking only the pack she'd been given, not realising she'd left behind her handbag, which Anthony had gotten her as a surprise gift.

But once she'd stopped running, she didn't think to go back. There was nothing in it she needed, nothing that would help her escape and nothing that would help her find her boyfriend.

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"KRIS!" Girl #16, Alexandra called from her hospital cot.

Kris came charging into the room, Dave a few steps behind.

"What is it?" Boy #4, David asked impatiently.

Alex made a little laugh. Dave wasn't even trying to hide his apathy.

"I just need some more bandages; these one's are starting to soak through." She pointed at the now red material wrapped around her wound.

"Of course," Boy #5, Kris said, dashing over to where the bandages lay.

"Does it hurt still?" Dave asked.

"Yeah, a bit worse now. I think it's infected. Too bad we don't know how to use syringes. I could really use some penicillin." She said, putting on a brave smile. "It's okay though. I reckon I might even be up and walking before too long."

Dave snorted and let out a derisive laugh.

"Oh come on Alex! You know as well as I do that it's never gonna happen! You're screwed. Guaranteed. You're not gonna make it out of this. Accept it!" He snapped.

With that, he turned and left. Alex and Kris called after him, but it did nothing to help.

"What did I say?" Alex said, staring at the door from which he'd left. She knew that he didn't care. She'd known that from the first time she saw him. But now she was just the tiniest bit afraid that he would actually start doing…Bad Things.

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Outside, Dave flung the Volkswagen's door open and slid into the driver's seat. He rested his head against the wheel, and moaned.

"Just fucking end!" He screamed.

Girl #12, Sophie, was tired. Very tired.

Her feet ached from walking so far, and her arm's wound sent shocking jolts of pain up her spine every time her heart beat.

Looking around, trying to take her mind off of the pain, she noticed a photo tacked behind the upstairs counter. Sophie got up and pulled it down off the wall.

In it was an old, old man, and wrapped in his arms was someone who was probably his grandson. The boy was holding a fish that he'd apparently caught himself, and he looked very pleased with himself.

_Did this guy work here? Where did he go? Did the government force him out? Or worse, kill him?_

Sophie sighed.

_Oh man. When did the government get so much power? They're forcing people out and killing teenagers. How did it come to this?_

Girl #13, Sarah, awoke smiling and well rested. She stretched and looked around the dark 'campsite'. Curled up and rocking back and forth was Girl #15, Jessica.

"Hey Jess," Sarah said stretching, "What'cha doing?"

Jessica didn't answer, and instead stared at Angel and June, who were still in talks about going to find others.

Sarah sighed and lay down again, staring up at the sky.

She heard footsteps. Her heart began to pump, thinking someone was coming to kill her.

But instead…

"Hey, Sarah," June said, leaning over so she was staring down at her, "You're awake?"

Sarah nodded and sat up again.

"What's the sitch?" Sarah asked.

Angel sidled up alongside June and said, "Well, we want to go find some others to, you know, help us get the hell outta here."

Sarah's eyes lit up, "Oh my God! That's the best idea ever!"

"So you're coming with?" June asked.

"TOTALLY! Jess come on let's go!" Sarah said, grabbing Jess's arm.

"NO!" Jess hissed, yanking her arm out of Sarah's grip, "I'm staying here. It's too risky."

Angel shrugged and put on a happy front.

"Oh well, we'll go and if you want to join us you can come find us, 'kay?" Angel said. But to himself he was thinking _Stupid cow._

Jessica said nothing, but gave him the iciest stare imaginable.

Angel wasted no time in collecting his and June's stuff and selecting a direction in which to search.

"Ready to go?" June asked, once she'd helped Sarah pack her few things, "Angel, got all the weapons?"

Angel nodded, Sarah's Glock in hand, Molotovs in his pack and June's sai in his pocket.

"So let's go!" Sarah said, "It's time we found a way outta here!"

The other two nodded, and they began to head out.

Jessica on the other hand was still sitting cross-legged at the base of the tree, staring malevolently at them.

Just before the three of them passed out of sight behind some dense forest, Sarah turned and shouted back, "If you want to join up again, light two fires a small way apart and hide. We'll come get you!" The fact that Jessica had no idea how to make one fire, let alone two, didn't cross her mind.

But before Jessica could point that out, Sarah had left, leaving Jessica alone, in a dark forest full of scary things, and scary students.

"Finally, I'm here!" Maddy exclaimed with glee, rushing up to the door of the lighthouse. But as soon as she reached the door she remembered that it was dangerous on this island, and anyone could be anywhere.

_What if Sam's in there? _

A chill went down her spine, but she attempted to shrug it off, but the feeling never really left.

She pushed open the rusty metal door of the lighthouse and peered inside.

It was dark, and there didn't seem to be anyone there, at least not on the first floor. But she could see up the back a winding staircase to the second floor.

Maddy cautiously entered. All her dancing years had finally paid off, as she could easily steal her way around the room without making a sound with her feet.

_It doesn't look like anyone's here, but I'd better check upstairs._

And so she did, climbing silently up the stairs.

Once she'd reached the top she sighed with relief. There was no one there, and it made her feel so much easier.

She walked forward, not bothering to be quiet, and felt around for a light-switch, and found it somewhere on the wall. The light hurt her eyes, but they quickly adjusted and took in the sight of the room.

It all seemed normal.

Except, lying on the floor by a cot that appeared to have been slept in recently, was one of the ominous green packs supplied by Miss Leech and the Battle Royale.

"Whose is that…?" She whispered, her eyes wide, her heart pumping faster and harder.

There was a click behind her, and she felt something cold, small and cylindrical pressing into the back of her head.

"Don't move a muscle Maddy, don't even blink."

Maddy gasped.

32 Remain


	10. Hour 10

**©Hour 10: 32 Remaining- 10:00 pm**

"Please, let me go Gavin, please!" Girl #14, Maddy begged, tears flowing thick and fast, as Boy #12, Gavin, placed the final piece of duck tape around her ankles.

Gavin had been awake a while before she entered the lighthouse, and was prepared.

As she had appeared, climbing the staircase, Gavin had snuck around the outside edge of the room, to position himself behind her. Catching her completely unawares, he made sure she was completely unarmed before forcing her over to a chair, to which he proceeded to tape her to. Once he was done, he sat down on the cot he'd been sleeping on and picked up his original weapon, the MP5 sub-machine gun.

"Okay, Maddy, what are you doing here?" Gavin asked, pointing the gun at her.

Maddy spat at him, "I was trying to stay alive, dick-wad. If you haven't noticed, at least seven of us are dead, and I'm trying to make sure that I'm not added to that list.

"No, why are you _here_?" Gavin pressed on, "There's a dozen other places marked on the maps we got, why couldn't you go there?"

Maddy sighed.

_He's never going to let me go!_

"I don't have my map anymore. Or my weapon, or my food, my water or my Ventolin. Sam attacked me, and I left my stuff behind." She explained.

Gavin made a little gasp, and then grimaced, "So, Sam's trying to kill, eh?"

"Not trying. By the blood on his shirt I'm pretty sure he succeeded, at least once. Maybe more."

Gavin lowered the gun, and sighed, saying weakly, "I guess I was a bit late, wasn't I?"

"Huh?"

Gav smiled, and stood up, "I was _trying _to stop Miss Leech, to stop all the killing. That's why _I'm _here. I thought maybe Leech and her pals would be here. They're gone from where we started, but they must be somewhere on this island." He explained.

The two were quiet for a moment.

"So, you going to untie me, or not?" Maddy asked.

Gavin smirked, "It's not that easy. I still don't trust you. After some of the stuff I saw back home, I don't think I ever will."

Maddy sighed, and looked down at her bound feet and made a small laugh, "Well, I don't really trust you either. You're the one who tied _me _up, remember?"

Gavin nodded, "So, we're in agreement. So sorry, YOU'RE staying tied up."

"Hmm, I thought we would've found someone by now." Girl #17, June, muttered, as yet another minute passed by with no sign from anyone.

Boy #20, Angel, sighed in agreement, and tightened his grip on her hand, "Ah well, we're still here, together."

The two smiled at each other, their hearts welling up with sudden, overwhelming affection. They moved closer, lips inching towards the other's…until there was a loud derisive cough from behind them.

"Don't forget about me!" Girl #13, Sarah said, a mock-offended expression on her face.

"We won't!" June said, laughing.

"Or Jess…" Sarah muttered, as the trio continued through the darkness, "I hope she's okay…"

Girl #15, Jessica, was definitely _not _okay.

Mere moments after the others had left her, a creeping terror had overcome her. She had only one flash-light, and without Angel to tend to it, her tiny fire was dying, and she was still a little bit scared of the dark.

Around her, night-time creatures began to assert their presence. Crickets chirped incessantly, an owl hooted nearby.

And, at the moment when Jessica was becoming more scared than she had ever been, hundreds of bats swooped over head, causing her to scream and curl up into the foetus position.

_Oh God, this place is so fucking scary!_

_Why?_

_There're, THINGS everywhere!_

_So?_

_They're so creepy!_

_You're scared of some bats?_

_YES!_

_Even though there're people trying to kill you? You're scared of bats?_

Jessica moaned, "How could this get any worse!?"

_Man, you are jinxing the hell out of this, you know?_

_Wha?_

A sudden, deafening crash rumbled overhead and a great fork of light shot down from the sky. The bolt of lightning struck the ground a few kilometres away from where Jessica sat, but she could still feel the ground shudder as it happened. She screamed as she saw smoke rising from somewhere she couldn't see, but from the glow beneath it she could tell there was a fire, despite the sudden onset of rain.

"Oh shit, shit, shit, shit!" She mumbled, "Please, no one be hurt. No more people hurt! No one deserves hurt!"

She was wrong. The only person near the lightning strike was perhaps the only one deserving of death, Boy #1, Sam.

He'd been skipping along a dirt path he'd found and singing at the top of his lungs (extremely poorly at that) when the first drops of rain had heralded the storm's arrival. However, as he was so wrapped up in his own insanity he didn't notice.

It wasn't until the lightning struck that he realised it was even going on.

"La, la, shoopity shoop, ding dong the witch is dead and I don't know the words!" He sang, before almost collapsing with laughter.

There was a piercing shriek from the sky. Sam hissed and threw himself down, just as the lightning forked down into the top of a tree. The tree burst in a shower of sparks, and the ground beneath was blasted into a smoking crater. Sam was jolted with pain as the land on which he lay shuddered like he was caught in an earthquake.

He stumbled to his feet, laughing maniacally. He re-adjusted his bag, which now only contained his fork, nail-gun and MAC-10 and his three water bottles, and stared at the blast site.

Fire spewed forth from it, setting alight a nearby bush. It was so intense the rain did nothing to stop it.

"Wow…fire pretty…" Sam whispered, stepping closer.

Suddenly, a tongue of flame whipped out from the inferno and just barely licked the side of Sam's face.

He howled in pain, and spat, "Fire BAD!"

With one hand over his small burn, Sam ran from the blaze, leaving it to wreak its havoc on the immediate vicinity, before it was inevitably doused by the rain.

"Shit…more rain…" Girl #20, Veronica, muttered, as she heard the storm's approach.

So began her desperate search for cover. The trees that surrounded her were no good; most were missing their leaves, and the others were tiny. She couldn't find any bushes, overhangs or caves to hide beneath or in, or anywhere else remotely suitable.

The storm was getting closer by the second, and for one moment, she could feel, the ground beneath her rumble as lightning struck the island somewhere.

"Oh crap, crap, CRAP! GODDAMN IT, WHERE'S A FUCKING PLACE TO HIDE!" She screeched, her patience evaporating as the first raindrop fell on her head.

And in a moment so convenient it seemed almost like an omnipotent being had planned it, her eyes fell on a hut, at the top of a small hill she could see through two trees.

As the rain began to pour around her, she ran inside it and closed the door behind herself.

Taking in her surroundings, she breathed deeply, trying to overcome the uncomfortableness of her now soaked school uniform.

The hut was small, and very Spartan. There was a desk, a small bed, a couple of chairs, an over-turned ottoman, a blackened stove and a fireplace that contained the charred remains of what looked like uninteresting legal documents. Also, it gave her a very good view of the surrounding countryside, a perfect sniping position.

But this place reminded her of her first hiding location, where she had shot at Tess and Melanie from. It had a similar view, similar furniture and a familiar, but distinct, look about it.

"Wait a minute…" She hissed under her breath, "This place is a little _too _familiar."

She gasped in stunned disbelief at her own incompetence.

"SHIT! THIS IS WHERE I STARTED!"

Girl #6, Alana, sat and stared at the rain falling from the heavens. She watched as it formed a puddle at the entrance to the cave. The puddle over-flowed and the water trickled down into the crevices between the rocks. Each stream of water separated as it moved down the rocks, becoming hundreds of separate droplets.

Soon though, she became tired with it all. It was all the same anyway. Rain falls and comes apart…rain falls and comes apart. She turned back to her boyfriend, Boy #15, Darren, who was still sleeping, and in pain. Her eyes travelled over his mangled body; over the gaping wound she'd caused him with her hatchet, and over the bloodied remains of what used to be his eye.

"Darren…" She whispered.

_What happened? What happened to his eye? _

Alana looked over at Calin, who was curled up by the cave wall.

_Could…Calin know what happened?_

Taking a deep breath, she slid over to where he sat and prodded him lightly in the shoulder.

"Hey, Calin…" She said, "You awake?"

He groaned and opened his eyes, "Oh, Alana, hey. Is Darren okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, he's doing okay." She said.

"That's great!"

_I wish the fucker would just die!_

"Hey," She said, "You showed up pretty soon after Darren did. Do you have any idea h-how he lost his…"

"His eye?"

"Yeah."

"None whatsoever!" Calin said, a little hurriedly.

Alana noticed this, and her stomach clenched.

_Calin seems…weird…could HE have had something to…NO…that's CRAZY……Isn't it?_

"Dave still out there?" Girl #16, Alexandra asked Boy #5, Kris.

Kris got up and peered out the window for a moment. A light still shone from inside the Volkswagen, and Kris could just make out the indistinct form of Boy #4, Dave.

Turning back, he said, "Yeah, he's still there."

Alex sighed and lowered her head back down onto her pillow. At least he was outside. But what was he doing?

The silence was unbroken, except for the steady patter of rain on the clinic's roof.

"Hey, Alex," Kris said, "You got a boyfriend?"

Alex laughed and smirked, "Me? A boyfriend? Look at me; I'm as fat as a cow. Who'd date me?"

"You're not fat as a cow!" Kris exclaimed, but, seeing Alex's face, shrugged and said, "Okay, maybe a very, very _thin _cow."

Alex laughed again, "Yeah, _thin. _What about you?"

"Do _I _have a boyfriend? Oh _yes_, his name's Bruce, and he's _such _a hunk!" Kris said with a girlish giggle and a seductive flutter of his eye-lids.

"Come on, you seeing anyone?"

He shook his head, the mangy pile of hair on his head bouncing back and forth. "I can't seem to hold a girl for too long."

"Ah well, your only, what, fifteen years old? You've got your whole life to find a nice gi-" She stopped mid word, and looked away. Kris stared at the blood stains left on the cot by Alex's now stabilized wound.

The patter of the rain continued.

"How much longer 'till the next report?" Girl #21, Elle, asked, after finishing one of her bread slices.

Boy #2, Anthony, looked at his watch and furrowed his brow, "Fucking analogue, umm…an hour and a half, give or take."

Elle nodded and began chewing on another slice.

Since Anthony had arrived, the area in which the four stayed had developed, despite the pitch blackness of night. Broken branches and leaves were pushed aside, and everyone's packs were placed in the centre of the site. With help from no one, Anthony had positioned leaves, sticks and other odds and ends to form a make-shift shelter for the packs and all those underneath. It was rickety, and ugly, and water still trickled in between the gaps in it, but it was better than nothing.

While Anthony had decided to keep himself out in the rain, the girls had slid underneath, where Girl #7, Melissa, had promptly fallen asleep. She'd given up on trying to stay awake, and was now snoring lightly.

Next to her, Boy #19, Andrew, was doing his best to avoid thinking about her.

_God…There's more important things to be worrying about then her!_

_Like?_

_Maybe your life, you malignant fuck. Even if you protect her…she'll just stab you in the back!_

_She wouldn't do that!_

_Whatever you say…_

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There isn't a word to describe the pain that Boy #21, Francis was in. Agony falls miles short. Hell is the closest to apt there is.

His broken arm lay out to one side, resting on the embankment of the hole he'd dragged himself into. The bone still jutted out from his bleeding skin, leering at him.

His head was throbbing, his whole body ached. It was hard for him to conceive that only hours ago he'd been confident of winning the Battle Royale, and still hours previously he'd been peacefully reading scripture on the school bus.

"GOD!!! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?" He shrieked; his rage and pain taking hold, "I-I-I was doing…your work!" He paused, and looked down at his wounds. Why would He have punished him so much for doing what was asked of him? "Aren't I doing your work?"

No one answered, as thunder rumbled and rain poured.

"Now, if I were a lousy, little, hypocritical son-of-a-bitch or a big fat slut, where'd I be hiding?" Boy #18, Dan muttered, pushing some bushes out of the way with the barrel of his P22. He'd unconsciously decided tha the best way to make himself feel secure was to hide his fears and worries behind a veneer of brazen confidence and a slew of unheard insults.

He'd seen no sign of anyone in a while, and it was getting to him. He wanted it over…this wasn't a place for him and he knew it…there was only one way it could end.

"Kill them…" Dan whispered, "But I can't find them…WHY CAN'T I FIND THEM?!"

_I've been on hikes but this is too fucking much!_

Tears stained Girl #3, Stephanie's face. Her search had turned up nothing. Her _hunt _had turned up nothing. Not a friend, nor foe. Not even a hint of her classmates.

"Please, Sophie…WHERE ARE YOU?"

Girl #12, Sophie's heart had been tugged at by finding the picture of the old man and his grandson. It had spurred her to begin a search of the premises. If the photo was left, what else could there possibly be? At first she'd found little. She'd checked all the counters, all the aisles, all the cupboards.

Eventually her fruitless searching had discouraged her so much she sat down in the middle of the hygiene aisle and sighed. Tissues and toilet paper lay scattered around her, the result of her frenzied search. All energy seemed to have been sapped from her.

But it was at this moment of peace that she noticed the painting on the wall…the large painting of the cartoon duck that had failed to garner her attention. How it had not done so surprised her.

The first time it had stormed during the Battle Royale, Girl #2, Rebecca had been infuriated. The wet was not her forte. Now that it was raining again…she couldn't help but feel that the Powers That Be were doing it to spite her, coming right on the heels of her…accident with Meghan.

Her pace was quick as she did her best to get as far away from where she'd left Meghan as she could. It was difficult going. Her torch provided little light, and the rain that was now drenching her was making it plain uncomfortable.

Suddenly, she stopped.

"What are you doing?" She said to herself, shocked, "You're running from nothing…nothing…"

_Meghan is nothing?_

"This whole game is…"

_Murder?_

"…Survival…"

_Murder_

"What I did was…"

_What you did was murder_

"That's what it was…survival…"

_Or was it _MURDER?

"That's what it was…that's all it was…"

To Girl #19, Emma, it _was _murder. Completely and absolutely. And it terrified her.

Meghan's corpse still lay dead in front of her, her face still smashed in. But now, a nauseating smell had begun to emanate from the dead girl. Wave after wave of it kept on rushing up Emma's nostrils, and yet she did not care.

Bec, the small, well-mannered girl had done this to her. She'd taken something to her face and beat her until there was nothing left. The thought that it had been in self-defence had never occurred her. She didn't notice the slightly bloodied knife clutched in Meghan's dead hand.

To her it was clear that it was pre-meditated murder. Bec must have lulled Meghan into a false sense of security, and attacked when she least expected it. At least, that's what she believed.

What Girls #9 and #11, Rachael and Chloe, believed was that Emma had lulled _them _into a false sense of security and bolted at the first chance she got.

"She must be playing!" Chloe said, wringing her hands, as the pair searched for cover from the rain.

"We don't know that!" Rachael yelled over the drone of the storm, "If she was playing, wouldn't she have tried to kill us?"

Chloe stopped, and thought about this, before saying, "Maybe she didn't think she could take both of us?"

Rachael shook her head, water flying off in all directions, "She had a shotgun. I have a pointy metal thing and you have a glorified stick. I think she could've taken us."

Chloe sighed, "Maybe, I don't know…BUT WHY WOULD SHE LEAVE US?" She was crying now, sobbing.

Rachael gave her one of her famous bear hugs and whispered, "It's okay…it'll all be okay. We're safe and that's all that matters!"

Girl #4, Melanie, had always had trouble with her eye-sight. It was a fact of her life. But she got around it, most of the time. But now, in the dark, she was beginning to snap.

"Goddammit, how could this get any worse?!" She shrieked, smashing her nun-chucks into a nearby bush.

Her question was answered by terrible crash, as lightning forked from the sky and struck the ground a few kilometres behind her.

Mel hissed and howled, as, within seconds, the rain poured like someone had left a faucet running.

"Stupid Murphy's Law…"

A kilometre away, at the base of a steep cliff, Girl #5, Tess, was tired. Her legs weren't used to so much walking, and in the dark, she was having trouble staying awake.

"No, Tess, you can't break!" She muttered, "You find Mel, and you find others, and you find a way out of this fucking place!"

She was resolved, nothing would change her mind.

Until of course, the rain came.

She squealed, and immediately threw herself underneath a rocky out-crop a few metres up on the cliff-face, which provided her protection from the sudden, dreary weather.

Tess grabbed at her things to pull them all underneath the rock, to avoid them becoming soaked through.

She smiled, happy with where she was.

"I'll just wait until morning; Mel will still be there in the morning…"

Yawning, she curled up, rested her head against the cliff's dirt wall and began to doze.

"Man, you looked like you were gonna be out for ages!" Boy #6, Jack said, as Girl #18, Felicity, sat up from her make-shift bed on the front pew.

"Yeah well…" She muttered, not bothering to finish the sentence. She looked down and found her crossbow right where she'd left it on the floor. Smiling, she left it where it was. She wouldn't need it.

"Hey! You're up!" Boy #7, Tom, exclaimed, seeing her rubbing her eyes. He ran over from where he and Boy #11, Ollie, where talking about car engines and plopped down on the sport next to her.

She smiled at him and said, "Hey! Yeah, obviously, I'm awake but…according to my senses…it's still night…" She frowned, "How long was I a-snoozing?"

Tom checked his watch and suggested, "Hmm, only a coupla hours I guess."

Felicity nodded and rubbed her eyes again, "Still," She said, "It was a good power-nap; maybe you guys should consider one too.

"Maybe," Tom whispered. But inside, he was really thinking:

_No way, too much could go wrong._

"Yeah, maybe," Jack said. Like Tom, inside he was thinking more along the lines of:

_Absolutely not. Tom and Ollie might not try anything, but…HER…I dunno…_

The group was silent, until Ollie piped up, "Pfft, why sleep? We're having _so _much fun!"

"Your sarcasm does not amuse," Felicity said, laughing.

Ollie giggled, but said, "Well, come on. These might be our last days, why not party?"

The three others looked at each other for a moment, before they each broke down into hysterics. Soon they on the floor laughing like lunatics. Ollie joined them, but his laugh was decidedly cold…forced.

They didn't stop until the very ground beneath them shuddered and a sudden, searing-bright light lit up the sky for a moment.

Felicity screamed and slid into a crawl-space underneath the altar with her cross-bow.

Ollie ran outside, to see for himself the arrival of the storm. His nerves at being surrounded by the others had gotten the better of him, and any excuse to get away was a good one.

Jack and Tom just laughed again, and watched as the rain dripped down the church's stained glass windows.

Sophie stared at the duck's huge unblinking eyes for a long-time. It was almost hypnotic.

However, before too long she shook her head and began to look closer at the duck's painting. It was completely out of place, so not with the décor. Any idiot would've known it stood out like a sore thumb. What's more…it was crooked and hanging loosely from the wall.

Sophie grabbed the edge of it and lifted it slightly. She expected to see blank wall, but instead, she found something completely different.

She grabbed the painting by both sides and threw it roughly from its hanging.

There in front of her, was a small metal alcove, almost like a hidden safe without the door, undoubtedly put there so valuables could be hidden.

But instead of jewels and money, it was paper. Regular old papers. Some looked quite official; others were hand-written notes on cruddy old yellowed paper.

The most noticeable was the newest, written in bold red letters on black-paper, and pinned to the back wall of the alcove.

Sophie reached in and took the piece of paper, and brought it out into the light.

In the top left corner was something she dreaded, a small red government seal.

"What is this…?" She whispered, stunned…staring unblinkingly at the seal…

32 Remain


	11. Hour 11 Side Story 1

**©Hour 11: 32 Remaining- 11:00 pm**

Girl #12, Sophie, was stunned. Here, behind a painting of a duck, she had found something that could, no, _would_ show her the way out of the Battle Royale.

It took her at least ten minutes for her to decide whether or not to read the government document she'd found. It felt so ominously heavy in her hand…like that Nazi map her history teacher had shown her.

Finally, she worked up the courage to continue reading past the title.

She read:

**GOVERNMENT ORDER**

By order of the Government of the Commonwealth of Australia, you are hereby ordered to leave your places of residence and remove yourself from the island within the next twenty-four hours.

The island has been re-zoned as Federal Property, and will be used for all future BR Programs. (For information on BR, see )

However, before you leave, you must complete the following tasks:

Insure all food has been removed from your dwelling

Insure that the water has been cut off from your home

Remove anything that could be considered a viable weapon (i.e, knives, letter-openers, baseball bats etc.).

Insure that any and all communication devices are taken with you when you leave or destroyed outright

Refusal to comply with these tasks will be considered treason, and you will be prosecuted accordingly.

We thank-you for your co-operation

Signed

Helena Hargrave

Head of Australian BR Survival Program

"God…" Sophie whispered, "Horrible…"

She put the 'Government Order' back in the vault and looked at the rest of the pages.

"So many…there's just so many…" One of them would show her the way.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" Girl #20, Veronica screamed, slamming her sniper rifle's butt onto the rickety, wooden desk. The table splintered and collapsed on itself.

Veronica was furious. How many people had crossed her path, and how many had she let get by? Melanie and Tess, they should've been easy pickings, but they got away! And Stephanie, there's a simple kill if there ever was one. But somehow, she too had escaped! The only one she could take properly was Ben, and that's barely saying anything!

She picked up her rifle and swung it around her head and threw it into the far wall, where a framed photograph hung. It shattered and fell to the floor.

Veronica kicked out at a chair, knocking it over, and grabbed the bed by its bottom. Heaving, she flipped it over and ripped off the headboard, screaming all the while.

Finally, she was too tired to destroy the place anymore, and flopped down onto the ruined bed's mattress.

"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KILL PEOPLE IF I CAN'T FIND THEM?!" She hissed at the roof.

He sat across from her, silent, and crying. The boy Girl #6, Alana, suspected may have taken out her boyfriend, Boy #15, Darren's, beautiful eye.

She had no proof, but her intuition was powerful, and was definitely telling her something was wrong about Boy #14, Calin. The way he talked, the way he acted…the way he glared at her prone boyfriend…something wasn't right.

"Okay…so where are we?" Girl #17, June asked.

"What do you mean?" Boy #20, Angel asked.

"I mean…look around…" She said, "It's pitch black, raining, we can't see where the hell we are, and it feels like we've been wandering in circles for an hour."

Looking around, Angel said, "You've got a point."

They were indeed in unknown terrain. It was so dark, someone could walk right past their noses and they wouldn't even notice.

"Should we even bother looking at night? Everyone'll be hunkered down…waiting for light…" June said, stopping Angel with an arm across his chest.

Angel sighed, "You're right…" He looked back in what he assumed was the direction they'd come from and gasped, "Hey…where the hell is Sarah?"

June whirled around and flicked on her flashlight, "SARAH!" She screamed.

Angel swore and clapped a hand to her mouth and hissed, "JESUS CHRIST JUNE! You wanna just advertise our position do you?!"

June slapped his hand away and spat back, "Well we ARE looking for people! Why not! Go back, get Jessica's megaphone and call out for help! Someone will come!"

"Would you just listen to what you're saying?!" Angel said, "People die by drawing attention to themselves…and we do _not _want to fucking die!"

"Hey guys, what's all the hubbub about?" Girl #14, Sarah, asked, popping out from a bush.

June screamed and threw herself into Angel's embrace, shrieking, "HOLY SHIT!"

In that simple gesture, the couple's fight had ended.

"Okay babe, I know you're tired…so am I…let's just rest here…maybe catch a few zees." Angel said, setting his and June's pack down on the ground.

Sarah agreed enthusiastically, and flopped down onto a nice, comfy log, nestled under the protective branches of a pine tree.

June shrugged.

"Well…we're just as likely to be found as we are to find…really…" She sighed, and sat down next to Angel, slipping her body under his arm and resting her head in her lap.

"I just hope Jess is still doing okay…"

Girl #15, Jessica, was still not faring well at all. The lightning still streaked overhead, and the thunder still thundered. The only small respite was that the rain was partially blocked by the canopy of trees above her, affording her _some _protection.

But it was nowhere near enough. She was now cold, damp and tired. Her fire had long since extinguished itself, and she was left with nothing to light the area but a torch.

Most people would've quickly come to the conclusion it would've been better to leave with the other three. Even if they had no shelter, at least she wouldn't be alone.

But not Jessica Cunningham.

She was still fuming, hissing with every breath, muttering curses onto the heads of June and Angel.

She just couldn't deal with it. She was incensed beyond comprehension…he had been hers…she'd TOLD June that…not even a week before…

_Class was in session, but Jessica, June and Sarah had slipped off to the bathroom to talk and get away from the dull drone of dates and facts that were being muttered to them. _

"_Dear God…I used to like history! But this guy just…ARGH!" June stuttered, holding her head in incandescent frustration. _

"_I know what you mean…it's like…" Jessica paused, thinking for the words to describe her feeling, "Like he's a robot or something…just repeating everything again and again." _

_Sarah piped up, "Oh yeah, and did you see that he hasn't stopped reading out passages from the text-book for a whole HOUR!" _

_The girls giggled, and continued to talk, comparing their teachers, deciding which were the worst and the best. _

_Soon however, Jessica had noticed the time. If they didn't get back to class soon, the room would be locked with their stuff inside. _

_The trio left, slowly meandering up through the quadrangle towards Room 303, where their history class was just finishing up. _

_Suddenly, something bumped into Jessica's side, knocking the breath from her. She turned to lash out at whoever it was that had run into her. _

_But the words caught in her throat as she saw who it was…or at least…the back of who it was. Wandering away from her was the brilliantly-shaped, absolutely perfect body of Angel Summers…the boy who _had _to be the love of her life. _

_Whirling back to her friends she whispered excitedly, "Look…THERE HE IS!" _

"_WHO?" Sarah said loudly, looking around for who Jess meant. _

"_Him…" She muttered, dreamily, "…Angel…" She sighed, and closed her eyes as she said his name, just to soak in the beauty of it._

_The two other girls looked at each other for a moment, before bursting out into laughter. Jessica glared at them with hurt eyes. _

_Sarah smiled sympathetically, "Aw, it's okay…I'm sure you'll get him someday." _

"_Yeah!" June said, putting an arm around Jess' shoulder, "We'll make sure nobody steals him from you!" _

Jessica spat at the dirt beneath her, and stared into the glowing light of her torch.

"Yeah…nobody steals from me and gets away with it!"

As the rain poured around him and the lightning crackled over-head, Sam smiled and laughed. He loved the rain, and everything about it. His favourite movie-moments, his fondest memories, always occurred in the rain. The T-Rex chomping on a car in _Jurassic Park_, the jig he, Alana and his friend Callum had done during a storm at school. Rain always made him happy.

And at a time like this, two kills under his belt and many more sure to follow, Sam couldn't help but singing.

He just put words together, not rhyming, with no particular tune or rhythm. But the words he put together…to someone listening it would've had at once a strange beauty, and a sickening premise.

Sam, although completely wrapped up in his insanity, never failed to pay attention for a potential kill, but nothing had shown itself for a while.

Only once in his hours of roaming had he ever had the slightest thought that what he was doing was wrong. He'd thought back to his encounter with Anthony. In over eleven hours of participating in Battle Royale, it was only that fraction of a moment that he felt the slightest remorse at what he'd done. Even through the dense cloud of his evolving insanity, he could still see that moment clearly. It was in fact that moment that had _caused _his madness. To protect himself from the looming and unforgiving guilt he'd torn out the part of his mental state that both let him feel and kept him sane. With that gone, all that was left was the body of Sam and the mind of nothing.

"How many times do you want me to tell the same story?" Girl #14, Maddy moaned, struggling against the bonds that held her to the chair.

Boy #12, Gavin ignored her completely, and continued pacing around her. His mind was racing from truck-loads of new information.

"So," He started, "Just…tell me once more about Sam…"

Maddy sighed and tried one last futile shake, but gave in, "I was just…I was angry. It seemed like Jess and Sarah had only _just _left when _he _showed up." Maddy shivered as she thought back to the sickening grin that had been set into Sam's face, "And…" Words escaped her. She couldn't stop thinking about that smile, those demented eyes…the bloodied shirt.

"Go on!" Gavin said, frustrated.

"I CAN'T!" Maddy shrieked suddenly, a great deal of saliva spraying from her mouth.

Gavin was surprised, and stopped trying to pressure her. He'd never seen her so angry…

_Damn, Sam fucked her up big time._

Gavin grimaced and sat down on the cot, where his two guns lay.

Maddy was crying, sobbing even. She stared at Gavin with a vacant expression of despair.

Barely able to get the words out she moaned, "Other than the fact he tried to kill me, what more do you need to know?"

Gavin nodded.

Captor and captive fell silent, staring at the dusty floorboards of the lighthouse. The only sounds were the patter of rain, and the whirring noise that accompanied the spinning light.

"OW!" Girl #4, Melanie Stuart hissed, pulling her hand close to her chest. She'd scraped it along something and cut it open. She put it up to her mouth and sucked on the small wound, wishing she wasn't alone.

_God, I'm never going to get out of this…at least not alive…_

She stopped, her torch falling to the ground. All the emotions she'd held inside were breaking free, and she slumped to the dirt, tears staining her face.

Alone and in the dark, Melanie cried.

Unbeknownst to Melanie, just a few hundred metres to her right, at the base of a cliff, Girl #5, Tess, the girl she'd been looking for was sleeping peacefully.

In the last hour she'd awoken once, when lightning had struck quite close, but she'd ignored it and quickly slipped back into an undisturbed sleep.

Again, the thought that someone would find and kill her never occurred.

Girl #3, Stephanie, had always been happy at school. In any class, no matter what it was, she could find someway to make it fun. In any situation she could find the humour. But there was no fun to be had, no humour in a Battle Royale.

She'd known about BR before she was taken. Not details though, the whole concept of kids killing kids for the sake of the country was sickening to her. So she ignored it, wrote it off as an urban legend, something that could never happen to anyone, let alone her.

And yet, here she was. Hundreds of kilometres away from her family, with no friends and less than three days to live.

"WHO'S THERE!?" Girl #2, Rebecca screeched, twirling around and shining her torch in as many directions as possible.

Truly, killing Meghan had increased her desire to find Anthony ten-fold. She'd wanted him before, wanted to see his gorgeous face, be held by his comforting arms and feel his soft lips on hers, but now…now she _needed _that…to make herself feel safe, to make the 'incident' disappear, or to make it OK…she _needed _it all…and soon. Not being with him was killing her.

P22 in his hand and grenades in his pocket, Boy #18, Dan, should have felt entirely at ease in such a situation. He had a gun, and bombs, what could beat that?

But even with his arsenal, Dan was confident of his defeat. No matter how many he killed (or, as it seemed so far, _didn't_ kill) by the end he'd be dead and someone else would be the champion.

Sighing he whispered, "The nerd never wins…"

Girl #19, Emma, on the other hand was confident of one thing, her own abilities. She knew she could handle anything thrown her way. Seeing Meghan's corpse had proven that…or so she thought.

Some time after the discovery, Emma's thoughts had changed dramatically.

They started:

_I'm going to find that bitch Bec and I'm going to tear her eyes out of her head for what she did to Meghan…just because we're in this fucking Battle Royale doesn't mean you can just KILL someone!_

But soon, these thoughts were being de-railed by sudden visual flashes of what she'd seen. Georgina's jaw being demolished by a teacher she'd thought was cool. Rachael and Chloe's terrified faces. Meghan's battered, unrecognisable face.

_Oh dear fucking sweet Jesus…it's real…it's all for real!_

Shaken to the core, Emma stumbled over some unseen sticks and fell to her knees.

"It's all real…" She whispered. All thoughts of a group of kids surviving the Battle Royale escaped her, and all that was left was the _knowledge _that she'd end up in the ground unless she, like Bec (the Bec in _her _mind anyway) killed.

A coherent thought hadn't run through Boy #21, Francis' unconscious mind in over an hour. It had just been sitting there, doing nothing but the very minimum to keep the boy alive. If he'd still been conscious, Francis would've known he was going to die soon. That's assuming his faith wasn't still deluding him of the reality of the situation.

Either way, it didn't really matter. His arm was broken, his rib cracked and he was not going to be waking up for a long, long time.

"He's been out there a long time." Girl #16, Alexandra said of Boy #4, Dave.

Boy #5, Kris, looked out the window and nodded, "Yeah…I don't know. Dave's never…" He searched for the words, "Been _affected_ by something. You know?"

Alexandra was puzzled.

"Well, it's like…he knows he's hurt someone, their feelings or whatever. But it's never plagued him. It's never made him feel crappy," Kris explained, going slowly as his vocabulary wasn't that huge. "He's always just said what he wanted, and given no regard. But with you…I don't know. I'm confused myself."

"I think I get it." Alexandra said. Of course she was humouring him. She didn't believe it. Dave wasn't like other people…she could tell.

Kris nodded, getting off of Alexandra's bed and picking up his glass of water. Heading over to the door, he stopped and leaned in its frame.

Sighing he said, "With you…he never liked you. I'm not sure he does now. But…he's sorry…really sorry."

Kris looked back at Alexandra's crippled form, "That's the only way I can say it."

Alex smiled slightly, "I get it. Don't worry. I understand."

Smiling back for a moment, Kris said, "You should sleep. It's way past your bed-time I'll bet."

_Bed-time…If only I was at home. Mum would have come in to say goodnight hours ago…I wonder if Kris's mother ever does that for him. _

A single, shimmering tear started to form in her eye, but she wiped it away.

"OK," She said, "I'll sleep…goodnight."

"Goodnight." Kris whispered, switching off the pair's torches which were lighting the room. Quietly, he stepped out of the room and pulled the door shut.

Kris paused for a moment, leaning against the door. He exhaled loudly, and, like Alex, wiped a tear from his eye.

"God, this is so fucked up!"

Kris headed out to where his pack lay. Foolishly, he'd left the AK sitting on a defaced sofa, but no one had taken it. The table was strewn with out of date medicine and bandages, the remnants of his and Dave's attempt at first aid.

Kris stood at the front door to the building for a moment, looking out at the dark shadow that was the van, which was only illuminated by the pale moonlight. Kris shined his torch for a moment to check whether Dave was still there. Indeed he was, so Kris headed back inside.

He looked at his watch. The time read 11:37. Sighing, he sat down on the sofa and placed the rifle on his lap. He rested his head on the wall behind him and sighed once more. He had nothing to do, he was insanely bored, and yet the thought to sleep had never crossed his mind.

"So…when are you going?" Boy #19, Andrew asked sarcastically.

Boy #2, Anthony, laughed at this.

"I guess I have stayed around a lot longer than I said I would, haven't I?" He smiled.

"Yup, you sure have!" Andrew said, playfully.

The two laughed for a bit more, before falling silent. The girls, Girl #7, Melissa, and Girl #21, Elle, had drifted off to sleep a long time before, and Anthony was well on his way to doing the same, despite his inherent distrust of all present.

This silence was proving to be Andrew's downfall. It was unnerving. There was absolutely no sound except for the occasional breeze…not even crickets! This…deadness in the air allowed Andrew time to think about everything he was missing.

_Parents…_

_A proper home…_

_Real friends…_

_A drug-free life…_

This last was the one he dwelled upon the most. He'd lived without parents, friends and a home since he was little, but drugs were a newer occurrence, and far more destructive. He was starting to feel the burn for them. In such a totally-beyond stressful situation like the one he was in, he was starting to feel panicked, and he knew if he could have just one joint he'd be fine…he'd be fine…

_I'd be fine…_

_But you don't need them!_

_I'd be fine…_

_Would you?_

_I'd be fine…_

_Wouldn't they fuck with you?_

_Get you killed?_

_No…_

_NO! _

_I'd be fine…_

_I'd be fine…_

_I'd be fine…_

Girls #9 and #11, Rachael and Chloe, were still in hysterics. Their sense of abandonment had not gotten better…only much worse. So much worse.

Rachael was pressed up against a tree, hugging her knees in a vain attempt to keep warm. Chloe merely knelt in the mud, as rain soaked through her clothes. Neither could stop crying.

If someone like Sam had come up now…the two would end up dead, no questions asked. But of course, he, nor anyone else, happened upon them. They were left alone, drowning themselves in fear and desperation.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN KEEPING THAT?!" Girl #18, Felicity shrieked, jumping up and down, clapping her hands in utter excitement.

Boy #7, Tom, laughed at her joy, and set the block of chocolate down on the pew.

"I thought you might not want it…" He said, casually.

"Why the hell not?" Felicity asked, frowning.

"I dunno…a lot of girls I know don't eat chocolate…because it'll make them 'fat'."

He explained.

"PFFT!" Felicity spat, flippantly, "Gimme some of that choccy!"

Tom laughed again and slit the chocolate's wrapper open with his finger-nail. He pulled back the foil and broke the block into four pieces.

"Here," He said, giving her the largest piece.

"Oh my God, THANK-YOU!" She squealed, hugging him, chocolate in hand.

"HEY! JACK!" Tom yelled across the church, to where Boy #6, Jack, sat deep in thought. He was thinking so hard he didn't even hear Tom's call.

Frustrated, Tom jogged over to him and lightly whacked him over the head.

"WHAT?" Jack asked, surprised. Tom held out the chocolate to him, and he took it eagerly, "Thanks mate!"

Tom looked around the church for a moment, searching for Boy #11, Ollie.

"Felicity," Tom asked.

"Yes?"

"Where's Ollie?"

"Still outside, singing in the rain."

Ollie was indeed singing in the rain, a Pantera song he'd been singing the morning Battle Royale had started. Tom soon broke him out of the singing daze and gave him his share of the chocolate.

"Thanks pal!" Ollie said, cheerfully.

_If you think chocolate's going to help you survive, you've got a real problem._

Tom frowned. There seemed to be something wrong with Ollie's smile. It just looked…odd. Shaking the thought off, he went inside, to find Felicity already wolfing down the chocolate.

Looking through the papers, Sophie found two small newspaper clippings.

The first was clipped from the editorial section of the _Herald Sun, _June 1st, 2004.

_**The greatest abomination to date**_

_What kind of world are we living in when our own country condemns its students to death in such a grotesque fashion? Are we that much under the thumb of our allies that we will copy their disciplinary measures, action-by-action? Our government has already followed the Americans into a war, do we really need to mimic THIS? Howard's more of a fool then I thought. Whoever came up with the idea of the Battle Royale, whatever criminally insane Japanese official thought of the concept, is so EVIL I cannot describe it in this editorial piece. All I can do is give the parents of those poor, POOR children's parents my DEEPEST condolences. What has been done this morning by our own government is the single, most abominable, heinous thing a government has ever done. And I am ashamed to call myself Australian. __M, Stansby, Adelaide_

"Well, I guess some people knew," Sophie whispered, turning the next article.

In it was the tiny picture of a braces-wearing boy, no older than her, smiling at the camera. The title read, _First BR Champion_¸ and it was dated the third of June, 2004, just over one year previously.

It read as follows:

_The first of what will be many Battle Royale champions has been revealed today, as he was brought in from Magnetic Island, where the event took place. _

_Finishing last night, surviving for two days and eleven hours, the boy, whose name can only be revealed as being 'Mitch', fought bravely throughout the competition. He eventually 'scored' four points, in the event, the last involving a battle that lasted over twenty minutes. _

_The other contestants will be retrieved in two days time, once autopsies have been performed, confirming that everything went according to the government's plan. _

"Goddamnit," Sophie moaned. She recognised the boy, she recognised the date.

_Tara…that was when…that was the boy…who…who killed…Tara…_

32 Remain.

-

-

-

-

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Side Story 1: Side Story #1- Family Conflicts

_Sophie was born late in 1990, and her cousin, Tara, was born an hour later. They first met on their first day of kindergarten, and had, ever since, maintained a…difficult relationship. _

_Tara had always grated on Sophie's nerves. She was always around. ALWAYS. When Sophie started first grade in primary school, Tara transferred in. There, she proceeded to forcibly alienate Sophie from everyone in the class. And Sophie knew it was her. From there, she did it again and again. At tae-bo, parties, Boat Race…everything Sophie wanted to be a part of. _

_It had all eventually come to blows when the girls were fourteen. _

_Sophie's mother was driving the girls home from rowing practice, and the girls were arguing, as usual. Finally, Tara said something that Sophie could never take. _

"_You know Soph, you may think you're all that," Tara whispered, so Sophie's mother couldn't hear, "At least I'm not friends with the faggots!" _

_Sophie had always stuck up for everyone, but especially for Calin and Stefan, whenever anyone screwed with them because of their sexuality. _

_The moment the word 'faggot' escaped Tara's mouth, Sophie turned, and with one violent slap, sent her head slamming into the window._

"_SOPHIE!" Her mother shrieked, slamming on the brakes. _

_Sophie went to hit her cousin again, but Tara ducked the blow, and instead launched herself at the other girl. The two wrestled for a moment, pulling at each other's hair, while each tried to undo their seat-belts, so they could fight easier. _

_It was quickly broken up by Sophie's mother and passers-by, but the damage was done. Tara's nose was broken, and Sophie's eye was as black as the car they drove in. _

_For weeks afterwards, they didn't utter a single word to each other. Anytime they saw each other, each would throw the other a gaze of utter loathing._

_Eventually, their feelings began to build-up, and another confrontation, much like the one in the car, was expected by all around them. _

_It never came. Instead, one morning, Sophie came to school to find that Tara had transferred out into another school. As it turned out, the rumours of Tara's girl-gang related activities were true, and been 'asked' by the school to leave. Embarrassed beyond recognition, Tara's parents moved their family to Melbourne, where Tara enrolled at a strict, Catholic school._

_To say that Sophie was ecstatic is an understatement. _

_Immediately after Tara's departure, Sophie's social-life blossomed into the most developed in the school. Everyone knew her, everyone loved her. It was perfect, and for three months on end Sophie didn't see Tara at all. She was happy. Tara had ruined her life, and now that she was gone, Sophie was truly content. _

_Until it all came crashing down, that is. Lunch-time of the last day of July, 2004, Sophie learned of Battle Royale, as did nearly every adult in the country (the children staying happily oblivious). _

_Tara's class, at her new school, in her new city, had been chosen as the test group for Australia's own BR. Taken in the wee hours of the morning, the class was flown north, to Magnetic Island, a resort hot-spot, minutes from Townsville and the Great Barrier Reef. They were given half of the island to roam over, and the same three days as any other competition. _

_Sophie never learned the details of what took place, much like the rest of the country. But she did know that it had eventually come down to Tara and a boy named 'Mitch'. They fought. Mitch won, and became the inaugural Australian Battle Royale champion. _

_He committed suicide a week later. _

Ever since that day when Sophie had read of Tara's death in the paper, she'd been plagued by dreams, hideous visions of what Tara's last moments may have been like. Every night for an entire year she'd had them. Soon, they became darker, more perverse, brutal and sadistic. At the same time, Sophie had become obsessed with learning everything she could about the two or so days it had taken to erase Tara's existence.

The night before Class C of Ballarat & Clarendon College was entered into the competition, Sophie had completed the puzzle of Tara's last day. All it did was make the dreams worse.


	12. Hour 12

**©Hour 12: 32 Remaining- Midnight**

Night had taken its hold, on the first night of the Battle Royale. An almost full moon hung in the sky, shining down on the island. The stars twinkled dreamily, as dark clouds brought torrential rain. The pitter-patter of the rain-drops was deafening, but it was not enough to drown out the sound of Miss Leech testing the microphone. Speakers across the island blared to the sound of classical Beethoven.

"Good evening everyone!" Miss Leech cried energetically, "How are we all feeling now, pretty good? That's good!"

Miss Leech was happy. She knew it, but, she knew that to get the best results and to get this damned Battle Royale over as quickly as possible she a) had to scare the kids and b) restrict their movements.

"Now," She said, sternly, "I'm quite unhappy with your performance over the last six hours. Do you know how many have died this time around?" She paused, "THREE!"

"FROM SEVEN TO THREE! I'm so disappointed! You had such promise!"

Laughing inside, Miss Leech looked down at the increasing in length list.

"First up, we have, I do believe, a Girl #8, Zoe Creelman! This is quite unfortunate; as she was one of the few of you I could stand. She's so polite…oh I'm sorry…_was_ polite."

"Next on our tiny, tiny list of goners is Boy #9, Benjamin Corden-McKinley. I won't tell you who did it, but that person has my congratulations. I've wanted to blow that kid's head off since I met him, and now finally someone has!"

"Last, Girl #2, Meghan McDonough." Leech said, sighing, "_That _was an interesting one. I tell ya, what's left of Meghan…well, let's just say that they won't be having an open-casket at the funeral."

"Now, as I said, I'm quite disappointed with you kids. THREE! Remember how I said if you didn't equal your kill tally I was going to add Danger-Zones? Well, here they are!"

"Starting in one hour, at 1:00am, N-7," She said, activating the zone at the island's east coast.

"Next, at 2:00am, J-4," She pointed to a zone in the middle of the island.

"Third, at 3:00am, C-17," She activated the top-left corner of the island.

"And last, at 4:00am, H-3," Indicating a zone at the bottom of the island.

"Hope those piss you off soon!" Leech said, now unable to hide her glee from the students, "Now, remember, keep killing, or else I'll get pissed and make every zone except one a Danger-Zone, just so you'll actually KILL each other. And speaking of that, this is for a lot of you out there…stop trying to kill people and KILL people!" She laughed, "This is Miss Leech, your teacher and trusted friend, signing off!"

Across the island, the stillness returned, and the patter of rain continued.

It was impossible for Boy #1, Sam, to keep the smirk off of his face. Yet another one of his 'trophies' had been announced, to his delight. He'd noted the deaths of Ben and Meghan, two people who he'd never really gotten to know. It didn't affect him at all. The only thing he felt was a slight pang of regret that he didn't get to them before who ever killed them.

Looking down at the list of his classmates he had made as night fell, he began to memorize those he was yet to kill. Once that was done, he began to repeat the names over and over again, until it was like a record on a continuous loop. The names just passed through his mind constantly. It consumed him like a fire consumes a piece of paper. It was all he had left, and he didn't care.

Girls #7 and #21, Melissa and Elle, and Boy #19, Andrew, stared at Boy #2, Anthony, in shock and disbelief. It had been only hours ago that Anthony had recounted to them when and how he'd left Ben on his own, on that beach on the other side of the island. And now…he was dead…

Anthony did nothing. He just stared at a spot on the dark ground, the mechanism of his mind grinding to a halt. Finally, the gears began to turn, and a feeling he couldn't quite place began to boil its way up to his throat. Inside his mind, his conscience was already arguing with itself.

_YOU FUCKING BASTARD!_

_I'm sorry_

_SORRY? HOW DO YOU THINK BEN FEELS?_

_I'm sorry_

_HE WAS SCARED, YOU KNOW?_

_YOU WERE PROBABLY THE LAST THING HE THOUGHT ABOUT!_

_THE BASTARD THAT ABANDONED HIM!!!_

_I'M SORRY!_

_No…you're really not…_

………………

_See, you're not. Ben is dead because of you, and what do you feel?_

_Nothing…_

_What does that mean Anthony?_

_It means…nothing_

_A boy is dead, __dead__, practically by your own hand…_

…_And it means nothing?_

_It means…something…_

_What?_

_You're prepared to kill to find her? _

_Could you, would you kill for her?_

………

………

………

………

_Yes…_

Andrew closed his eyes. He'd immediately felt a need to shout at Anthony, accuse him of causing Ben's death. But he knew it was ridiculous. Anthony moved, Ben didn't; it was simple as that. It was not Anthony's fault Ben had run into the wrong person. It was the wrong person's fault. That's whose…not Anthony's…he was certain of it.

Elle on the other hand, wasn't so clear-thinking.

"You…" She whispered, hoarsely, "You…_left_ him…"

Anthony sent her a depressed, grieving look, which she mistook for denial.

"It was…all you…"

"ELLE!" Melissa hissed.

"NO!" Elle snapped, standing up, "Anthony abandoned his friend to satisfy his fucking penis!"

The words just flew right by Anthony; he didn't really even know she was talking about him. His mind was still grappling with the concept of killing for Bec…

"That's not what he did!" Melissa said, doing her best to defend him.

"How can you say that? If he'd done the right thing, Ben would be fine! He might even be sitting here, right now! Or maybe he and Tony would be back where they started, and the person who attacked them would be gone or dead themselves!"

"We don't know that! If he'd stayed, maybe they'd _BOTH _be dead! Did you ever think about that?!"

Elle spat at the ground, in a display of pure anger, "BULL-SHIT!"

Andrew was about to step in and silence the girl when Anthony stood and said, his voice quivering, "I-I'm going now…I…have to…find Bec…" He trailed off and grabbed his pack, torch and his share of the food.

"See look!" Elle hissed, "Off he goes to find his woman! Probably going to fucking rape her!"

Fury swelled up inside him. He rushed over to Elle and swung with his left hand. His knuckles collided with her chin. She squealed in sudden pain and fell on her butt, clutching her wounded area.

"FUCK YOU!" He suddenly screeched, sending spittle into the air.

_KILL HER!_

_NO!_

_DO IT! I thought you'd made the fucking decision…_

_Bec __must __live…she must…_

_You have to kill for her…you __have __to…_

_No…I can't…not yet…_

_Come on…I bet it's easy. If __Sam__ can do it, surely you can!_

_I…can't…_

_Are you saying that Sam is better than you?_

_No, it's just…_

_He kills because he's a coward…but you, you have honour! It'll be you and her!_

_Me and her…_

_RIGHT TO THE END! _

… ……

_So, will you kill for her?_

He kicked her, twice, extremely hard. Once in the stomach, and once in the chest. She screamed out in pain, clutching her belly. Inside, Anthony laughed. He would indeed kill for Bec. But not just yet. It would be too easy to go wrong…first he had to get the gun…first he'd get _their_ gun…make them defenceless…and _then _he'd do it.

As soon as he saw Elle on the ground, Andrew dove forward and grabbed her around the shoulders. He cradled her in his arms, and looked up at the furious form of Anthony.

Melissa stood off to the side, shocked to the core.

"Anthony…what…why did you do that?" she whimpered.

Anthony looked over at her and laughed. His eyes fell from her face to the ground next to her. There, at her feet lay the Desert Eagle. Anthony knew it to be incredibly powerful. In comparison, his Colt .45 looked like a pea-shooter. As he stared, he felt a smile begin to play across his face.

Melissa noticed his gaze and followed it to the handgun. She gasped and was about to grab it when Anthony dove at her. He knocked her hand away and somersaulted, grabbing the gun with his free hand. As he came out of the roll he held it up and pointed it at Melissa. With his other hand, he felt in the back of his pants, where his Colt sat. He pulled it out and pointed it towards Elle and Andrew. Elle whimpered, both in pain and fear.

"Anthony…" Melissa whispered.

"Surprise!" He sneered.

"What're you…?" Andrew spluttered stunned.

"I've been doing some thinking." Anthony began, "This _is _kill or be killed. You can't deny that. I've been fooling myself. Only one person is going to make it off this island. And I know who it's going to be!"

"Anthony, no!" Elle gagged.

_Jesus Christ, he's gone of the deep end!_

"You can't! It's not right to kill others for yourself!" She cried.

Anthony laughed again, "I'm not doing this for me, I'm doing it for her!"

Elle's eyes widened in realization.

"You get it now?" Anthony said. His finger tightened on the trigger. The pin inside the gun rocked forward, propelling the chambered bullet forward at explosive speed.

But it hit nothing, it whizzed harmlessly into the air. Melissa, at the last second had dove forward and struck with Elle's tazer, which had also been at her feet. She struck its activation button and jammed its metal prongs into Anthony's back. He shrieked and the gun went skyward, thus causing the misdirection of the bullet.

Anthony crumpled to the ground, temporarily stunned. If it weren't for his thick school blazer, and for the fact that the tazer didn't manage to get full contact, Anthony would've been unconscious for an hour. Melissa, seeing their chance, jumped forward, grabbing Andrew and Elle by the arms and pulling them with her. It took them a moment to realise what she was doing, but they soon followed her lead and ran.

Anthony struggled to his feet, still dizzy from the tazer blast. He stared furiously at where they'd come from, infuriated with himself. He'd let them get away. And before that, against all of his instincts, he'd let Sam get away too…He wouldn't let it happen again.

Girl #12, Sophie, stared in despair at the pile of papers in front of her. They had seemed to multiply as she read about Tara more and more. It was getting harder and harder to continue going through them. Her tears were getting thicker and thicker, and she was about to quit when yet another piece of paper came to her attention.

Holding it closer, she read:

Population Booms on Castle Island

In the last 15 years, the population on Castle Island has increased astonishingly. In 1990, the island was in danger of being deserted, when, suddenly, more and more people became heavily involved with the island's considerable dock system. The island is a stepping stone to Southern Asia, and a hub for all manners of imports and exports. It is also at the forefront of our quarantine policies.

To quote one resident, the change has been "gob-smacking…This place was going to hell, and then, poof, there's people everywhere". The island was literally going to be shut down, when, in one week, the population _doubled_ in a baffling display. It now has the largest permanent population of any Australian island. Residents expect the population to be over 2000 by the year 2005, an astonishing figure for an island so small.

"Sweet Jesus…" Sophie whispered, "2000 people…"

She shuffled through some more papers, stunned. She turned a page and found a stack of photos. One showed the island's lighthouse, and another showed a huge brick building with 'Castle Theatre' written over its door. There was a church, a homely neighbourhood, and last, an elaborate dock system, with cranes and all manners of boats. Also, there was a map of Australia, with Castle Island circled. Sophie wasn't surprised not many people had heard of the place. It was tiny, smaller than Magnetic Island even. It was situated just north of Cairns, quite a way out to sea.

"So that's where we are…" Sophie muttered, sighing.

Girl #9, and Girl #11, Rachael and Chloe sat in silence. Next to each of them were their maps with updated Danger Zones. The two stared at each other, their eyes wide, their bodies limp. No tears were felt from either of them. Zoe was dead. Meghan was dead. Georgina was dead. Their friends were being killed left and right. Soon, it would be _their _names being read out over those accursed loud-speakers.

Both of them wondered how they were going to go. They both knew it was going to happen. They could feel it, sense it. They knew it was coming, and they didn't mind all that much. They accepted it. That's just the way it was.

The rain was still falling around them, but they were already so cold and wet they didn't notice. They weren't even bothering to _try _to hide from it. They just continued to sit…and sit…and sit…

And think…and think…and think…

And eventually mourn their dead friends…and themselves.

"_Evening Francis, how's it going?" A voice suddenly called from the darkness._

_Boy #21, Francis, moaned as he felt his body grind into consciousness. He opened his weary eyes to see the dark of night spread out into the distance. He could see basic shapes, illuminated only by the stars and the moon. His body shivered, as he realised just how cold the night air was against his exposed flesh. As soon as he was done shivering at this new-found cold, his body remembered the wounds it had received, and the boy felt a wave of agonizing pain rush over him. _

_He peered around in the black void, hoping to see who had spoken to him and roused him from his peaceful slumber. _

"_I'm over this way, silly buns!" The voice said. _

_Francis turned to see who it was. His jaw dropped at what he saw. A beautiful, nay, gorgeous woman, wearing an almost entirely transparent, silk gown. Her hair was long and black, and upon her head she wore a golden crown, bedecked with jewels. _

"_Who are you?" Francis asked, doing his best to sit up. _

_The woman rushed over and knelt down next to him, helping him up. _

_Francis repeated, "Who are you?" _

_The woman stared into his eyes and whispered, "God is very angry with you." _

_Francis' heart froze and shattered into a trillion pieces. He gasped in pain and grabbed the girl by her shoulders, "Why!" He screeched, "What? WHY!" _

_The girl pushed him back down and stepped away, saying, "How can you not know? You tried to kill Alexandra! She was weak, she was dying, and still you tried to end her life! How can God accept that?" _

_Francis moaned, and slammed his fist down into the ground, shouting, "It's what He wanted! Only one can survive, and he wanted the most righteous to live! To carry on his work!" _

"_How can you possibly know that?" The woman spat, hissing, as she began circling him, "God is the Creator, the Alpha, and the Omega! He is EVERYTHING and so much more and you dare to have the arrogance to say that you know what he wants!" By now, she was definitely no longer gorgeous. Her soft features had taken on a very hard edge, as her eyes turned to flame and she took on a truly amazing, if somewhat supernatural glow._

_Francis cringed and hauled himself over to a nearby rock, where he strained with all his might to right himself. _

_The woman rushed over to him again, and stood, towering above him. Francis looked up at her, and at the glow which now emanated from above her. The light shone down on him and he felt himself bathed in a purifying energy. Francis now had the unnerving feeling that she was an angel._

"_Think about it like this," She whispered from above him, "If you were doing God's work, would you not be going about it right now? No. You're sitting here, in pain. God has left you. You have sinned and God has abandoned you. You are just as forsaken as the souls that now burn in the eternal hellfire."_

_Tears burst forth from Francis' eyes. He did nothing to hide them, he merely wept. _

"_Pathetic." The heavenly woman muttered, "Have you no shame? God may have forsaken you, but you still have a thing called dignity. The least you can do is leave this plane of existence with it." _

_Through his tears, Francis managed to whisper, "What? How?" _

_Suddenly, there was a thump from the ground below him. He looked down and saw the same knife that Miss Leech had had in his dream. _

"_Use it." The woman/angel said, "Use it, and be free." _

"_I don't understand…" Francis said, confused, "God sent you, to get me to kill myself?" _

_The woman/angel was silent. _

_Francis hissed with pain, as he struggled to his feet. He fell over once, but soon found himself standing, staring into the eyes of the woman/angel._

"_God would not do that. Suicide is _never _the answer." He said, whispering, "You're lying." He pulled his head back and spat in her face. "Now, tell me…Who are you?" _

_The woman calmly wiped the spit from her face and said, coyly, "You've read about me. You know all there is to know…in fact, you read about me just the other night…" _

_Francis' jaw dropped, he stumbled back, awestruck as he came to realize the person he was speaking with. The arch-type of the wicked woman…_

"_Jezebel…" He whispered, "God didn't send you…did He? Him, that, thing sent you." _

_Jezebel cacked evilly. "The suicide thing went too far? Funny, you seemed just ripe." She said, cruelly, "Yes, he did send me. But just because he sent me doesn't mean that I'm not telling the truth." Jezebel turned and started to walk away, her dress falling from her body as she did. Francis stared in shock. "You sinned," She sneered, "You're sinning right now, impure thoughts about my body! You're a sinner at heart, Francis. Now matter how hard you try, you will never be anything different." _

"_I have my whole life to atone for my sins." _

_Jezebel laughed and turned to face him. Slowly, she walked back over to him and took his hands in hers. After a moment she gently pulled them to her chest, and leaned in towards his ear, before whispering, "And just how long might that be?" _

_Francis whimpered, eyes shut tight, as he felt his fingers tighten on Jezebel's breasts. But, suddenly, he felt them grip nothing. He opened his eyes to see that Jezebel was gone. He fell to his knees and cried…_

Francis' body lay, battered and aching, in the ditch where he had fallen. His unconscious mind continued playing tricks with him for the rest of the night, as his body did its best to heal itself.

Boy #12, Gavin noted the deaths of his three classmates in his mind. Now there were three more reasons to get back at the people who ran the Battle Royale. But he had no idea how! The only way he could see how he could do anything was if he knew where the BR Headquarters were. He sat down, ignoring the captive Girl #14, Maddy, who was still taped to the chair in the centre of the room.

Gavin didn't know how long he sat for, but for both him and Maddy, it was an awfully long time. Finally, with a sigh and a grimace, he got up and began to remove the tape that held Maddy to the chair.

As he did so, he said to her, "I'm letting you go because I trust you. I have no reason to trust you. I just am because, if I don't trust you, who will I trust."

Maddy nodded, still crying.

"I'm going now. I'm going to do my best to end this thing, before anyone else is hurt. It's not likely that that will happen, but I'm going to try anyway."

The last piece of tape fell away, and Maddy was free. She sighed with relief and stood up.

"That sounds like a good idea." Maddy said, "Good luck." She hugged him for a moment, ignoring the fact that he had been holding her hostage a mere minute beforehand. "Go, do what you can. But I'll be staying here."

"You sure?" Gavin asked, as he collected his things.

"Yeah. At least here I can, you know…block the door and stuff. I really don't want to run into someone else…especially not Sam again." She explained.

Gavin managed a weak smile, as he threw the MP5's strap over his shoulder.

"Will you be okay?"

"I think so." She said, "Go, I'll be fine."

Gavin smiled, as he picked up his UZI.

"Well, see ya." And with that, he quickly descended the stairs, leaving Madeline alone.

Outside, Gavin felt a sudden rush as he felt the cold night air. He looked up at the sky, which still rumbled, and still sent streams of rain. He took a deep breath and began his search again.

Upstairs, Madeline watched from the window, as Gavin's torchlight slowly disappeared into the distance. She continued to cry. She knew…_knew _that Gavin would not succeed…she could _feel_ it. She didn't know who was going to win, but she could tell that it would not be her, or Gavin. It just…wouldn't.

While the rain had ceased in some parts of the island, it was still quite heavy over the medical clinic, where Girl #16, Alexandra, lay sleeping, as Boy #5, Kris stood sentinel over her bed.

Outside, in the front seat of the van in which they had arrived at the clinic, Boy #4, David, sat, staring motionlessly out at the dark forest in front of him. He'd sat there for hours…he didn't know how long exactly. All he could really remember was the sudden realization at what he had done to Alex…the _horrible _thing he had done to her…

He had stopped crying a long time ago. There's only so much water a person can expel from their eyes before there is no left. Now, he sat, pondering the past, the present and the future. He could see the Alexandra in the past, the happy-go-luck energy ball…he could see the Alexandra of the present, a pale, pained, bloody and dying figure…and he could see the Alexandra of the future, cold and lifeless…with himself standing over her, bloody sickle in hand…

32 Remain


	13. Hour 13

**©Hour 13: 32 Remaining- 1:00am**

Boy #14, Calin, was cold. He was shivering all over, and his extremities had been numb for a long time. His blazer did nothing to shield him from the freezing temperature.

But it did not concern him. He was concentrating too much to feel anything.

He was remembering every moment he had ever spent with Stefan. From the first time they'd met, at the Year 7 Orientation Day, to the last moments they'd spent together, he remembered it all…

_Hi…I'm Stefan…are you as confused as I am?_

…_you wanna catch a movie with me on Saturday?_

…_Oh my God, Calin, you HAVE to help me with this maths assignment…_

…_I've come to the conclusion that I'm gay…_

…_you really want to go out with me? For real?_

…_there's nothing better than waking up to your face in the morning…_

Calin didn't move as the tears started yet again. They fell, one after the other, trickling done the side of his face.

Soon, there were so many words and memories buzzing through Calin's mind that he couldn't distinguish one from the other. But, finally, the words merged into a single glistening memory…the last happy moment that Calin could remember…a single sentence which Stefan had muttered in his ear as they waited to board the bus that morning…

…_Calin…I love you…_

The rain was beginning to lighten up outside, as the four who took shelter inside the church began to hunker down for the night.

Girl #18, Felicity, had found a couch stashed away in a cupboard, and had brought it out in front of the altar. She then grabbed a pew and placed it so each seat was facing each other, providing a make-shift bed that was definitely more comfortable than the floor which they had previously been resting on.

Boys #6 and #7, Jack and Tom, had played 'rock, paper, scissors' to see who would take first guard duty. Jack lost, and took up his position near the door, while the three others made themselves comfortable underneath some moth-eaten blankets that had been stashed away along with the couch.

While Felicity and Tom sat at one end, chatting about anything and everything that wandered into their mind, Boy #11, Oliver, was hunched over at the other end, curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth. His mind had been arguing with itself again…

…_You're not going to survive if you just sit there sucking your thumb!_

_NO! I can't do anything…_

_Yes you can! Take the friggin' crossbow and get the hell out of there…_

_I can't!_

_You don't have to kill them! _

_But the longer you stay with them, the more likely it'll be that someone will attack!_

_PLEASE! STOP!_

_You're such a coward…_

Tom and Felicity never even noticed that something was deeply wrong with the boy.

Girl #19, Emma, rested at the top of a large hill. About a kilometre away from her, she could see the lights of what she thought to be the island's health clinic, where she guessed some people would be hidden. Her grip tightened on the shotgun's handle, as she sighed deeply and went over her plan.

_Ok…just go down there…_

…_be quiet…_

…_don't make a noise…_

…_scope the place out…_

…_check if anyone's there…_

…_if there is…assess the situation…_

…_who is it…_

…_what weapon do they have…_

…_are they playing or not…_

…_then…_

…_kill them…_

…_fast…_

…_swift…_

…_painlessly…_

…_end it fast…_

………

………

Girl #2, Rebecca had done her best to forget what had happened. Occasionally she succeeded, sometimes managing to not think about…the incident…for up to twenty minutes at a time…but eventually…she'd do something, or hear something, or feel something, and it will just remind her all over again what she'd done.

As she stumbled through the darkness, she regularly ran into low branches or bushes. Her torch was of little use, as she could only point it in so many directions.

Finally she couldn't take it anymore and dropped to her knees, letting out a screech that scared a nearby owl from its tree.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU CUNTS?!" She howled.

She slipped to one side, and sobbed.

Girl #4, Melanie, was still sitting where she had stopped. The tears had come for quite a long time. But, they had dried up, as they always did, and she was left alone. She now sat silently, staring into space. Her search for Tess had indeed stalled…

_Why do you even want to find her again? She's just going to get you killed. _

_Maybe…_

_But…_

_I just…don't want…_

_No…_

_Can't…_

_Be alone anymore_

_You're always going to be alone Melanie_

…

_Let's face it…you're going to die terrified and alone…_

_You don't have the skills to survive…_

_Just who the hell do you think you are?_

_No one…I'm you…you know that_

_Well, shut-up! I don't want to hear it!_

_Whatever…all I'm saying is…that thing with that sniper was lucky_

_Sure, you 'dodged' a bullet…but just think…_

…_you can barely do a lap of the lake…_

…_how the hell do you think you're gonna be able to fight someone like Alana?_

…_or Tom?_

…_Jesus Christ, would you be able to fight against some little fucktart like Sarah?_

…_you can't survive…_

…_all you're good for is dying…_

Girl #12, Sophie, gasped as she awoke from her sudden slumber. She moaned, realizing that she'd fallen asleep.

"Stupid!" She said to herself, "Stupid, STUPID!"

She sat up, rubbing her eyes and swore to herself. Her torch had been on the whole time she was asleep, and was beginning to wither and die. Frantically, she used the last remaining minutes of the torches light to find the batteries, which were on the front counter. As she threw the dead batteries over her shoulders, she stopped in shock. Outside, not twenty metres away was a shining light.

Sophie dropped to the floor and crawled towards the window. She poked her head up to the bottom of the glass and tried to see who it was holding the light. She hoped it was someone she could ally herself with.

As the light drew closer, Sophie was relieved to see that it was Girl #20, Veronica. She was about to stand up and call out to her when she realized what the girl was carrying. In her hands was a massive rifle of some description. Attached to the top of it by medical tape was the flashlight that Veronica had been provided with. The way she carried it suggested a practiced hunter. Sophie's blood ran cold.

She sank lower to the ground as Veronica came closer. The rifle-wielding girl stepped up to the door which had been broken in Sophie's entrance. Veronica peered closely at the broken glass, and then into the store itself. She waved the gun around, splashing light over the inside of the store.

Sophie cringed as the light came within centimetres of her legs.

Veronica made a huffy little noise, before Sophie heard the crunch of a foot upon broken glass, and then nothing. Sophie waited a moment before poking her head up once again. The light and Veronica was gone.

Sophie sighed with relief and sat up. She waited a moment before retrieving her flashlight and the new set of batteries. She then headed upstairs, back to the pile of documents she'd fallen asleep upon.

She sighed as she picked up yet another news article about the original Battle Royale. As she began to skim its contents, something caught her eye. A piece of paper had fallen from the table on which her research material sat. She bent down and picked it up, holding it under the light.

"Oh my God," She whispered, "This is it!"

It was a letter, quite new, written in blue pen and with messy handwriting. It was not particularly long, but what it said made Sophie's heart sing. This was what she'd been looking for.

Boy #2, Anthony, was still shaking and numb from the tazer blast Elle had dealt him. But, he was now at least able to walk, and continue his search for his girlfriend. The pain he felt in his back where the stunning weapon had nearly connected was nothing compared to the pain his heart felt at being away from her. Cheesy as it may sound, it hurt him physically to be separated from her. Once, when they had only been dating two months, she left for a three-week trip to northern Australia. The day she left had been the last time he had smiled for the whole time she was gone. He stomped about his house for weeks, saying few words, and usually hissing when he said any. He ignored his friends and played video games 24/7, all the while thinking of Rebecca. It was the huge sense of anticipation at her return that kept him going.

The night she returned, he snuck out and knocked on her window. She'd opened it and there, with him sitting on her window sill and a new moon in the sky, he had told her he loved her for the very first time. She had just been able to choke out a similar sentiment when someone knocked on her bedroom door. Anthony had fled, but from that moment on they had been apart for more than a day only once.

He had always thought he would do anything for her. And now he was certain of it. Like his friend Sam before him, he had decided that killing was the only option. He would find her, he would protect her, and he would love her…'till death do them part.


	14. Hour 14

**©Hour 14: 32 Remaining- 2:00am**

_Student, _

_Time is very, very short. I have written his to help you. Believe it or not. I must be brief. Down by the docks, hidden underneath Pier 3, inside a container, is a boat, small but reliable. Inside that boat are instructions for the removal of what you are wearing, the standard-issue explosive collar. With its removal, escape from the island should be relatively easy. Patrol boats are poorly manned, and will not attack another boat, believing it to be 'secure'. Do your best to get as many of your fellow students out as possible, though I understand that gaining trust will be difficult._

_Also, DO NOT speak of this out loud. There ARE microphones hidden in the collars, and if those in charge hear of this they will detonate your collars immediately._

_There are further instructions inside the boat, in regards to further protection upon getting back to the mainland. Be warned. Whoever escapes will be wanted criminals, with death without trial extremely likely._

_Good luck_

Underneath the words was a scrawled, un-readable signature.

Girl #12, Sophie, stared at the crumpled piece of paper, her insides frozen. Suddenly, a way out had presented itself and it seemed too good to be true. She kept thinking that any second now she'd wake up, but she never did. She even went as far as to pinch herself, even though she knew as she did it that it was thoroughly real.

Girl #5, Tess, yawned as she felt her eyes flutter open. She wiped them with her hands, before sliding out from underneath the cliff-face. She stretched and twisted from side to side, marvelling at the darkness that surrounded her. Tess, being a city girl, had never really been in true darkness such as the one she was now in. She couldn't see anything in front of her, and it, coupled with the lessening pitter-patter of the rain gave her a pleasant rush of adrenalin.

It took her a while to remember what she had been doing before she had had her little nap, but as soon as the face of Girl #4, Melanie, slipped into her mind she burst into action. She grabbed her bag from under the cliff, checked her map and compass, and then headed off into the forest, back in the direction she'd come from. She would find Melanie, and all would be right.

What she didn't realise is that her bag was suddenly lighter than it had been. She mistook it as her getting used to it, when in fact something rather important had slipped out.

Lying in the mud, back at the cliff where she had slept, was her only weapon, her katana.

Boy #15, Darren, opened his eye as he felt himself come out of yet another unconscious stupor. This last rest hadn't lasted long, only ten minutes or so. From what he could see, his girlfriend, Girl #6, Alana, was standing up by the mouth of the cave, peering out into the darkness. He wanted to call out to her, but he couldn't make any noise loud enough for her to hear.

The one small mercy of the whole thing was that the faggot, Boy #14, Calin, was asleep. Darren couldn't believe that that filthy, little, pansy-ass fudge-packer had gotten the better of him. The first one had been so easy, a simple jab and the deed was done. But Calin, the real poofter of the two, had surprised him, and his empty eye socket was a testament to that. To be perfectly honest, Darren was just the slightest bit impressed that a boa-wearing batty boy could actually hold his own. Of course, he'd never admit it.

Darren tried to close his eye and sleep once more, but his mind had awoken, and he couldn't shut it off. Instead, he stared at the sleeping Calin, his mind buzzing with all sorts of things. None of it made much sense to him, but Darren knew that it all revolved around Calin. Darren truly and unerringly hated the boy. However, another feeling towards him had sprung up during the last fourteen hours. Darren couldn't figure out what it was, until he realised he was sweating and shaking, just from looking at the kid. Darren was scared of him.

"30 bullets left…30…30…" Boy #1, Sam, muttered under his breath, "30 bullets with 32 to go…31 to go minus me…30 bullets with 31 to go…not enough…it's not enough." He held the MAC-10's clip up to his eyes and checked its ammunition count again. "Not enough…"

Sweat began to bead on the boy's forehead as he crashed through the undergrowth. He hadn't stopped moving for hours but he hadn't been feeling the burn, but now that this new development had arisen he could feel every single little ache and groan in his body.

"No, no, no, no, not enough, not enough, not enough. Need more…30 bullets 31 to go need more need more…can't finish it off with only 30 bullets need some more need something else to finish the game. Can't leave the game unfinished, oh no, that's for quitters, I'm not going to be a quitter this time. Always fuck everything up not this, can't fuck this up or I'm fucked too…"

His rant was cut short when his path did. A solid mound of rock and dirt had appeared in front of him, and he'd run straight into it.

Getting to his feet and dusting his school trousers off, Sam hissed at the cliff-face he'd missed in his haste for the kill. He picked up his torch and his gun and began to skirt along the edge of the cliff-face, hissing at regular intervals.

He was about to turn and head back into the forest when his torch slipped over something shining in the mud beneath the cliff. Getting down onto his knees, Sam stuck an arm into the sort-of cave formed underneath the cliff and felt around. His hands closed around something cold and he grabbed it, pulling it out into his torch-light.

A soft whistle escaped him.

"Well lookie here, Mary-Jane," Sam whispered, "Someone's given us our Christmas in July present!" He squealed with childish delight and bounded off into the trees, his gun and pack over one shoulder, and his new toy, a small katana, in his hands.

"Hey, Kris," Girl #16, Alexandra, asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Boy #5, Kris, answered.

"This is a bit…icky but, have you ever…had sex?" She asked, turning red.

Kris laughed and nodded, "Yeah, I have."

"What's it like?" Alex asked, propping herself up against the pillows she rested on. Her leg was feeling more or less okay for the moment. The pain was still there, but the throbbing had lessened, and hopefully it wasn't getting _too_ infected.

"Well," Kris said, trying to think of the proper words, "It's hard to explain. I'm probably not the expert on it mind you, but…it's kinda amazing. I mean…it wasn't with someone that I loved; it was really with someone I barely knew. But still…I felt so connected with her. Like just for a moment our two bodies had become one and we'd gotten lost in a forest of ecstasy." He stared blankly for a moment and then laughed, awkwardly.

Alex stared at him, her mouth open. Finally she managed to say, "God, Kris, I never knew you could use words like that."

"Neither did I."

The pair of them laughed, before Kris asked, "Have you?"

"Me?" Alex asked, giggling, "No way, I mean look at me. I'm no prize catch."

"So? I know way more disgusting girls than you who've gotten laid."

"Thanks Kris…" She said, mockingly offended, "But…I don't know…I've always been…scared of boys."

"Scared? How can you be scared of boys?" He asked, puzzled.

"Well it's like…" She started, "I've always been told…God it's stupid…I've always been told about…Bad Things."

"Bad Things?" Kris repeated.

"Yeah, Bad Things. My sister told me _all _about the Bad Things. The Things that boys do when they're mad, or sad, or lost, or bored, the Things that they hurt girls like me for." Alex said, her eyes glazing over in terror at the thought of the Bad Things. Kris waited for her to continue. "All of primary school was a nightmare for me whenever there were boys around. I was so _sure _that they were going to get out their dingle-dangles and hurt me…"

"Dingle-dangles?" Kris questioned.

"That's what my sister said penises were called, dingle-dangles. I was so scared of them. I had nightmares about these big, greasy, hairy, tentacle monsters coming out at me from the walls. But as I got older, the Bad Things stopped worrying me. I don't know if I forgot about them or if I got over them, but they weren't in my mind anymore…"

"But?"

"But now…they've come back." A genuine look of fear came into Alex's face as she grabbed one of Kris' hands. He was startled by the palpable terror that emanated from her. "I think it's Dave…there's something wrong with Dave. It's the Bad Things, I know it, that's what's wrong with him."

"Dave? Come on!" Kris said, pulling away, "Dave couldn't do anything bad, especially to a girl."

"Didn't you see him? All day he's been different, he barely talks, and now he's gone out and has been sitting in that fucking Volkswagen for hours!" Alex said, her voice trembling.

Kris didn't want to admit it, but Dave had been concerning him for some time. Something was definitely wrong with him. But he couldn't let on to Alex that he thought that. He had to calm her down or she'd just wind up hurting herself.

"Listen, Alex," He said, in his most adult voice, "The Bad Things aren't going to happen to you, okay? The Bad Things are gone, and aren't coming back. Dave is just feeling guilty about what he did to you, he can't deal with it himself. That's why he's out there. The only reason the Bad Things came to mind is because you are worried that you're going to die without ever making love to someone, which is valid. It's something that some of the people on this island will never get to do. But understand me when I say that there are more important things right now, you getting better for one thing." He began rubbing on of her hands, and he felt her tension began to ebb away, "So you're just going to rest now, and not think about those non-existent Things, okay?"

Alex smiled at Kris, "Thanks," She said, "For everything."

Boy #18, Dan, sighed. He longed to be returned to his comfy home, his comfy bed, and comfy sheets. Everything here was painful and cold and all he wanted was some degree of comfort. It couldn't be found. He sighed again. He also wanted to be back at school, a place that, even though it was full of those who hated him, was a place where he felt safe. There were no surprises at school. He came in, he studied hard and he knew the answers. That's all there was to it. But in a Battle Royale there are too many variables. The rules don't apply. E doesn't equal MC squared, y doesn't equal mx plus c. Any second something could come along and throw the whole thing out of whack.

It frightened him. He desperately needed to be back in his world of safe, red margins and aligned seating. He needed to be told the answers so he could get the top mark and prove to everyone that no matter how they put him down he still came up trumps in what mattered.

He couldn't go back to that. He knew it. So what Dan did instead was do what he always did in class. He was going to prove to everyone that he was the best. He didn't believe it himself anymore, he knew deep down he was just a lame-ass nerd, but he _needed_ to prove himself to his bastard classmates just so he could go on living. He'd show them that even with all their make-up, their muscles and their friends, _he _was the one who had the advantage in life, that _he _was going to be the last standing at least once in his life.

Boy #12, Gavin was exhausted. He'd rested for hours beforehand, but travelling in the dark with the amount of weight he was carrying was painfully tedious and slow. He panted as he finally gave up and slipped to the ground. He'd done his best to follow what he thought was a route to the island's school-building. He was hoping that some other students with the desire to escape had gone there under the similar assumption that those who wanted company would go to a major feature on the map. Gavin didn't really know what he was going to say when he got there and he didn't really care. Right now all he wanted to do was get there safely.

As much as he tried to tell himself that it was all alright and that there weren't many people playing, walking through the dark on a strange island was terrifying. His mind turned any tiny noise into some hellish monster and no matter how much his common sense tried to tell him otherwise he genuinely believed it to be there.

Sighing, Gavin eased himself slowly back onto his feet. He couldn't give in, to his pain or to his fear. Otherwise he might as well throw in the towel already.

Girl #19, Emma, smirked as she peered over the small ridge. Not twenty metres away from her sat the Health Clinic, and flickering through one of the windows she could see a faint light. She was right, there were people there.

The question was what was she going to do in regards to them.

She silently slipped down to the Clinic's level and shuffled forward, trying to take in as much of the area as she could, checking to see if there were any sentries or something similar. As she rounded one of the buildings corners she gasped and crouched down. Right in front of her sat a banged up Volkswagen. Peering around the corner, Emma spotted someone sitting in the front seat.

The door swung open, and the figure dropped out onto the ground, and headed into the building.

Her eyebrows furrowed, Emma followed, silently, still unable to tell who it was that she was following.

The person went into the clinic, and before the door could close, Emma grabbed it and slipped inside, gently closing the door behind her.

Her sawn-off shotgun clenched tightly in one hand, Emma crouched down low and skirted around the outside of the room, following her target down a hall towards what she guessed were the bedrooms. People were talking in one of them. It sounded like two people, a boy and a girl, but she couldn't tell what they were saying or who it was.

For a moment she couldn't figure out why the person she was following was waiting at the door, and then finally it clicked in her brain. All thoughts of potentially harming whoever it was that was there were gone when she realised the gravity of what was about to take place.

Two, black shoe clad feet dropped down into the mud beneath the beat-up Volkswagen. They moved forward up towards the front door of the clinic, and paused for a moment as they wiped themselves on the doormat before entering. They were silent as they slipped up towards the door to the first bedroom. Again they paused.

Boy #4, Dave, stood firm and tall, his back pressed against the wall of the clinic. His ears were alert, and pricked up as he heard the voices from inside the room.

"…Have you ever had sex…?" He heard Alex say.

Dave stopped and listened to the conversation that followed, and found out all about the Bad Things. They intrigued him.

He heard Alex accuse him, and then Kris defend him and smiled. Kris was a true friend.

He heard the two say goodbyes to each other, and for a moment every single muscle in Dave's body tensed for what would come next, that moment that Dave had been pondering since he'd gotten into the Volkswagen van, the moment when Dave thought that all would be made crystal clear.

32 Remain


	15. Hour 15

**©Hour 15: 32 Remaining- 3:00am**

Boy #5, Kris, smiled at Girl #16, Alex, as he stepped out of the room. Inside though he felt a sad pang of frustration, as now he knew he had to go and talk to Dave.

He turned into the hallway, to find a dark shape in front of him. Fear welled up inside him for a moment, because he couldn't tell what the dark shape was. That same fear exploded in his chest when he realised who it was, and what the glinting object in his hand was.

Boy #4, Dave, grunted as he swung the sickle sideways into Kris' side. The banana-shaped blade dug deep into the boy's flesh, releasing a pleasing (to Dave's ears) squelching sound. Kris shrieked out in agony as Dave wrenched the blade forward and across, raking it across the boy's stomach. Dave turned, and pulled the sickle along with him, pulling it (along with most of Kris' shirt) out from his victim.

For a moment Kris stood stunned, a red line drawn across his now exposed belly. The line got bigger, and bigger, wider and wider, as the newly formed gash opened up. Everything from within Kris' gut suddenly began to move. Kris didn't realise what was happening, but his intestines were now hanging from him. He turned, his brow furrowed in an agonizing stare of disbelief, and faced the now pale and sweat covered Alexandra. He reached out for her, took a step, and then toppled over onto his side. A pool of blood began to form beneath him, as his organs continued to slip out into the cold night air.

Boy #5- Kris, dead. 31 Remaining.

Alex stared at the dark hole which was the door in terror and ignorance. She could still see Kris lying on the floor in a red puddle, but what had caused it she still didn't know, until Dave stepped out into the light of the bedroom, smiling broadly.

Her voice suddenly found her and she opened her mouth wide and screamed. The Bad Things had finally come for her.

"Hey there," Dave said, sidling up to Alex's bed. She began to shiver in fear, and tried desperately to push herself backwards, away from him, but her leg wouldn't allow it. "Why are you trying to run? You're not going anywhere, you know it."

Tears began to flow, and Alex began to mumble, "Please, please don't hurt me."

Dave snorted and sat down on the bed, saying, "Oh come on, it's perfectly obvious you're going to get hurt from this. How much you get hurt is of course all up to you."

Alex couldn't understand what he was saying. She knew there was some horrible intent behind it, but in her panic and fear she couldn't figure it out. She looked around the room, looking for any possible means of escape. Her eyes rested on the SPAS shotgun that was resting on a nearby chair. She tried to avoid looking at it, to prevent Dave from realising it was there, but he turned his head and smiled.

"Ah, your shotgun. I was wondering where that had gone." He reached over and picked it up, swinging it round and running a finger lovingly down the barrel.

"These things can do a hell of a lot of damage." He said, like it was the most normal thing to talk about, "One shot from this would pretty much remove any facial blemishes one might have, but I'm afraid with you it might be a bit difficult, there's so many after all, and that's not including your weight."

Dave laughed derisively, and swung the SPAS around, pointing it at Alex's head. Her heart caught in her throat and for a moment she was absolutely certain she was going to die right then and there.

"Nah, I'm not gonna kill you Alex," Dave said, putting the gun down, "Not yet anyway. First, we're going to get down to business."

"Business?" Alex questioned, pulling herself up to rest against the wall. Her heart was thumping like mad, and her breathing was becoming laboured.

"Well, it was you who gave me the idea. You put it right in my head..." He leaned forward and whispered, "…When you asked Kris if he'd had sex."

Alex's eyes widened. She could see where this was going.

Boy #15, Darren, was appalled at himself. He, the great, tough Darren Salem, was scared of a poofter. An eyeliner wearing, boa toting poof. The pain and embarrassment he now felt was the worst feeling he'd ever experienced. Calin had taken his eye, crippled him, and almost straight afterwards, his own girlfriend had left him defenceless. His torso was still open, and the smell of infection was beginning to hover over him. His forehead was getting slick, and he had been overcome several times by extreme cold and then extreme heat. And it was all because of that faggot.

Darren's head began to become heavy. He couldn't help but lower it down onto the cave floor, and it was all he could do to stop from passing out again. All his fighting was worth nothing however and soon his one eye had slipped closed.

_It was a surprisingly warm, May day, and the students of Class C were excited. They were just a week away from their first real dance, and though few were genuinely romantically involved with anyone, everyone was pumped for a night of new things. Darren was pleased. Despite their recent fight, Alana had agreed to go with him. He was going to have the most gorgeous girl on his arm the whole night. It consumed his thoughts, and he constantly had to rearrange his pants because of it. _

_It was just about time for him to head home after a tiring night of football practise, when Darren heard voices coming from one of the ninth grade locker areas. Not many people were around after school, so he wanted to see who it was. He slipped into the small, enclosed space, expecting to see Nick or Stu. Instead, it was Calin and Stefan. Darren avoided them, because he had a sneaking suspicion the two were nothing but a pair of queers. Now though, they were right in front of him, and it took him a moment to realise what they were doing. _

_One of Calin's hands was on Stefan's shoulder. One of Stefan's was on Calin's waist. Their remaining hands were clasped out to one side. There faces were inches away from each other's._

"…_Am I a good dancer?" Calin whispered. _

_Stefan smiled and rested his head on Calin's, as he began to slowly swing the pair of them around in a simple waltz. _

"_Yeah, you are." Stefan whispered back. _

"_Do I deserve a kiss?" _

_The waltz stopped. Their hands were lowered. Stefan brushed a stray strand of Calin's hair from his face, before leaning in. Ever so softly, Stefan placed his lips on Calin's. _

_Darren's temper was an easily excited creature, and at that moment, when their lips met, that creature mutated into something that it had never been before. His temper was now genuine hatred, and a genuine to desire to hurt and kill. _

"_YOU FUCKING FILTHY CUNTS!" Darren grunted, loud enough to send a bird cawing from its nearby nest. _

_The two boys broke up, and immediately Stefan stood in front of Calin, shielding him from view. The two knew that Darren wasn't someone to mess with, especially when you were queer. _

"_Darren-" Stefan started, but he was cut off by Darren's next hoarse scream. _

"_YOU FUCKIN' PERVERTS, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!" He screamed, spit flying from his mouth. _

"_Stefan, let's go!" Calin said, tugging at one of his arms. Stefan nodded, and the pair began to back away, as Darren advanced on them. _

"_No you fucking don't!" Darren spat, grabbing Stefan around the collar. Grunting, Darren tossed him easily into a nearby locker so hard the wood of the locker's door splintered. Stefan gasped out and fell straight on his backside, his eyes never leaving Calin. _

"_Calin, GO!" He cried, but not before Darren had pulled back his fist and struck out, catching Calin square in the stomach. Calin sank to his knees and began to cough uncontrollably. _

_Darren was about to strike out again, when there was a sudden burst of noise from nearby. The rest of the football team had arrived, and along with them, the team's coach. Darren didn't want to be seen with either of the disgusting homos, so he bolted into a nearby corridor and ran for the front of the school. He never found out how badly he'd hurt either one of them, and he never heard whether or not they tattled. _

Nearby to the sleeping Darren, Boy #14, Calin, lay sleeping too. His dreams had been filled with random images, all of course with the theme of Stefan. No image lasted longer than a few seconds, but suddenly they dissolved into a memory Calin wished he could forget, while at the same time, hoped would never fade.

_Calin had never been in so much pain. He felt like all his organs wanted to leap out his mouth, and he had half a mind to let them if it meant the pain was gone. Tears stung at his eyes and he began to feel himself topple sideways. He was just starting to gain momentum when he felt a warm pair of arms wrap around him and hold him steady._

_He looked up through his tears to see the shining face of Stefan looking down at him. Calin sighed and lowered his head into Stefan's chest and began to sob. _

_Stefan began to coo, and whispered over and over "It's okay." He stroked the crying boy's head and pulled him tighter, resting his head on Calin's. He took Calin's hand in his and rubbed his fingers, promising him it was fine._

_The footballers entered just as he did so, and all were stunned to see the two boys sitting on the concrete floor. A few wrinkled their noses in bemusement, and others in disgust, but nobody said anything. They knew something serious had happened, and so they just got their bags and silently left. _

_Eventually, Stefan had pulled Calin to his feet and kissed him once more. _

"_Now baby, we were dancing, I believe." He said, smiling. Calin giggled softly and smiled back. _

"_We were," He whispered. _

_Stefan took one of his hands and put it on his shoulder, and held Calin's other in his own, before saying, "Well, we better get to it." _

_Once again the two began to rotate, slower than before. It lasted perhaps a minute before Calin once again fell into Stefan's chest… _

Up above the two sleeping boys, Girl #6, Alana, stood, staring down at them. She smiled softly and blew each boy a kiss. It was beautiful, the pair of them lying there; two enemies fast asleep not two metres away from the other.

However, she hoped that next time the two were awake she could get some answers. She _needed_ to know what had happened.

Girl #19, Emma, stood frozen in the corridor of the clinic. She could see Kris' feet sticking out the door ahead of her, and she knew that he was definitely dead. It was _another_ corpse. She'd seen it happening and done nothing. Now, she could hear the voices from inside the bedroom. One she recognised instantly, Dave's. The other took a moment, but eventually Emma concluded that it was Alexandra. Alexandra was trapped in a room with a madman. And she wasn't doing anything.

Emma inched forward, holding back vomit as she got nearer and nearer to Kris' foot.

She froze as she heard some of the pair's conversation.

"…Please Dave, you don't want to do this! You're sixteen; you don't want to do this!"

"I don't? But…I don't want to die a loser, a _virgin_." The last word was said with the most contempt Emma thought she'd ever heard.

"That's fine! You can make it out of here and _then_ I'm sure there'll be plenty of girls who'll--"

There was a slapping noise and a girl's whimper.

"Just be quiet, okay, Alex? Make it easier for yourself."

More cries of 'stop' and 'please' were heard, and suddenly a hideously ominous ripping noise filled the air. Alex screamed out, her voice getting shriller and shriller.

Emma crept further forward, and shuddered as her hand brushed Kris' dead foot. She looked into the room and every part of her body froze. Alex had been dragged into the middle of the bed. Dave was above her, holding the tattered remains of Alex's shirt in his hand. Alex's chest was now exposed to the world.

Emma shuddered as she saw Dave's expression, a look of insatiable, perverted hunger and lust, with a glinting hint of sadistic, murderous intentions.

Alex was still struggling underneath him. The bandages for her wounds had come undone, and the bullet-holes had begun to leak once more. Blood now was seeping into the bed-sheets.

Alex rolled to one side, grabbing at the bedposts, hoping to pull herself away. Dave grabbed her legs and she screamed once more. She flailed for a moment, before her eyes fell on the terrified, pale face at the door.

"EMMA!" She shrieked, a tiny bit of hope now in her voice.

Dave turned, smiling. He wasn't concerned…he knew he should be, but he wasn't.

"Hi, Emma. Come to join us?" He said, his grin getting wider and wider.

Emma shuddered again and backed up into the wall of the hallway. Her hands tightened on the sawn-off shotgun in her hand.

"Emma, please! HELP ME!"

Emma's eyes darted from Alex's panic-stricken face, to Dave's maniacal leer. She shook her head. Alex's eyes widened.

There was a whisper of 'I'm sorry', and Emma was gone.

Alex's heart dropped to the floor and shattered. The Bad Things had finally come for her.

Dave flipped her onto her back and laughed. Alex stared up at him, now so afraid that she couldn't even cry. Her mind was on the brink of collapse.

"You ready?" He asked.

Outside, Emma stumbled to her hands and knees. She vomited, the milky substance splattering on her fingers. She couldn't think about what was happening. If she did, she wouldn't be able to move…she'd break down. She'd be useless.

She staggered back to her feet and began running, heading back for the ridge where she'd come from.

"Rachael…Chloe…" She muttered, her feet repeatedly slipping as she tried to climb the muddy embankment.

As she finally reached the top, she heard one final, shrill, gut-piercing scream from the clinic.

"I'm sorry…" She whispered again, before once more falling to her knees and vomiting.

Girl #14, Madeline, was feeling pretty damn shit. Alone again, her belly tying itself into knots, she tried to keep her mind off it all by tidying the lighthouse. She removed the torn bits of duct tape that littered the floor, and chucked the aged and empty beer bottles from the window, smiling as she heard their pleasant shattering.

None of it could distract her from her thoughts though. She'd been second-guessing every move she'd made in the Battle Royale, and was in the process of convincing herself that she had doomed herself at some point, and the only way around it was to find out what she'd done wrong. There were the obvious moments, such as choosing to remain while Sarah and Jessica had left, and when she ran into Sam. But there were also little things. Why had she taken _this _path instead of _that _one? Why had she waited at _that _momentinstead of some other time?

It all served no purpose of course, except to support the idea that doom was inevitable.

"FUCK!" Maddy screeched, all the pressure finally releasing as she screamed that single expletive. Shaking, she walked into the centre of the room and did her best to stand still. She brought her heels together, her feet forming a straight line. She lifted an arm out in front of her, and bent at the knees, beginning something that was utterly familiar: her ballet exercises.

Her breathing slowed, as the routine kicked in. Her previous decisions quickly melted away, and slowly, the room did too. All that was left was her, standing in the middle of a black, horizon-less world, slowly dancing to a tune that existed only in her mind.

Girl #20, Veronica, was tired. She didn't like it. She was Veronica Maclay; she should never be in a situation where she is so tired that she could barely walk. It wasn't right.

Throwing her bags to the ground and resting her sniper rifle against a tree, she sat carefully, keeping the perfect posture her mother had forced into her ever since she was a child.

She dug into her bag and pulled out her black comb. She'd had it since she was twelve, and it had seen her through some pretty distressing hair issues. Its fine black nibs had detangled their fair share of knots and helped her through some pretty bad hair days. The long metal point which she used for a handle had also on occasion saved her from sleazes who thought they had the right to hit on her.

When she was stressed, she always got it out. It was the one thing she could count on, even now. Taking it lovingly, she ran it through her dark hair and smiled. It was just like it had been at home. The only thing on this whole island that brought back pleasant memories of a time when she ruled the universe, or at least her part of it.

Alexandra's eyes stared at the ceiling, not focusing on it at all really. It wasn't important in any way, but it was the one thing that she could distinguish. Her thoughts, feelings and emotions were all a blur and she could only recall vague details from the last twenty or so minutes.

She remembered a lot of grunting, an excess of tears, terrible, slopping noises and a lot of pain, but why it was all there she couldn't remember.

She was naked, she could tell that. When that had happened she couldn't tell. She was sweating too, and covered in multiple substances which she couldn't make out. Blood was one of them, she supposed, as there was a great deal of pain in her nose and her nether-regions, and that's where she could feel the vast majority of it all. Her leg wounds were also at their worst since they'd been inflicted, and undoubtedly some of what covered her came from it.

Alex closed her eyes for a moment, and for a split-second she saw a fist come flying out of the darkness straight at her face. Her eyes snapped open, and the haze settled back in.

She shut them again, and now she could hear something.

"…_You love it…" _

It was Dave's voice, she was sure. Sitting up, she felt around for some sheets or something to cover herself, not opening her eyes.

"Oh sweet Jesus," She whispered, as the vague shapes and actions she could picture began to take genuine shape.

Her eyes slowly opened and her worst thoughts were confirmed. Looking down, she could see blood covering her body, dripping from her nose, and a small pool gathering beneath her. Her groin burned and ached, and she gagged as she remembered the first sensation of his…_thing_ entering her.

"I see you're awake." Dave said, appearing in the doorway.

Alex screamed and snatched up the sheets which lay at her feet, pulling them across her.

"I hardly think we need those _now_," He said, laughing, "It's all done."

"You si-" The word caught in her throat for a moment, before it finally came out, "You sick _fuck_!"

"Oh come on, you loved it!" He said slyly, leaning in towards her, "You were great by the way."

Dave suddenly felt spit dripping down his cheek. Rage overtook him for a second, and he struck out with his hand, backhanding Alex across the face.

"You don't get to talk to me like that, bitch!" He spat, "You better watch it, or I'll fucking kill you!"

Alex laughed inside. He was threatening to kill her. The boy who had taken her innocence was now threatening to take her life. And she didn't care. If anything it was a blessing. Her mind was shattered by his actions, and now simply cried for an end. She wasn't going to let it end quickly though. If he took her flower and her existence she was going to make sure he remembered it. He epitomised the Bad Things, and she wasn't going to go without hurting him back.

Her eyes scanned the room. She spotted it quickly, lying next to Kris' corpse, the sickle.

Dave was leaning in again. His breath was disgusting, and it brought back more images, which Alex immediately shunted away. She let him get closer, and closer, knowing his intentions. He was done with her body, and he was going to finish her off. But he was being a fool. He assumed that she was now nothing but a wallflower to be toyed with. But Alex's fight had not gone, like he thought.

As his hands snaked their way up to her throat, Alex tensed, and brought back a fist. She slammed it into the side of his head, and he immediately slipped to the side, stunned. She kicked out with her good leg, catching him across the back as he fell. He grunted in pain and flopped on the floor.

Diving forward off the bed, Alex hobbled over to the doorway, the wounds in her leg now as open as they were to begin with. Her foot slipped in the blood that fell from the bullet-holes, and she collapsed on top of Kris' body, her face dropping straight into the pile of organs that had collected next to him.

Ignoring it, she reached out and snatched up the sickle. She turned, ready to lunge at Dave.

But as she stood, her heart tightened as she saw Dave, standing on the other side of the room, with her own SPAS 12 shotgun in hand. It was pointed straight at her chest.

"Fucking bitch…" He muttered, "You're disgusting."

"I'm disgusting?" She hissed, "You're the one who raped the fat chick."

Her arm pulled back for a moment before she flung it forward, the sickle soaring from her hand, spinning as it flew through the air.

The blade span, almost looking like it was in slow-motion, and made a pleasant slicing noise as it tore through Dave's cheek.

He screeched in pain as it ripped open the side of his face. He howled as he saw a tattered piece of skin fall to the ground, as the sickle embedded itself in the wall behind him. The fucking bitch had cut open his face and blood was now falling freely onto the floor and flowing back into his mouth. The wound wasn't mortal, but it hurt like a bitch.

Alex knew she'd missed even as she threw it, but even so, she was content. Her work was done.

Dave's finger tightened on the SPAS' trigger. The blast was massively loud, shaking the clinic's windows and echoing out across the island.

Walking forward, stifling the pain in his face, Dave stared at Alex's naked body, which had fallen backwards on top of Kris' once more. Her chest was now a huge red spot. Looking down at it, the good side of Dave's mouth twisted into a sneer.

"Fucking fat ass…" He said, spitting onto her dead, blank face.

Girl #16- Alexandra, dead. 30 Remaining.

Emma heard the gunshot, coming from where she'd just fled. Her chest tightened, and she ignored it as best she could, though she knew exactly what it meant.

Instead, she turned her thoughts to Rachael and Chloe. She would find them again, and apologise again and again. She had to make up for what she'd done. She'd just let a girl be destroyed, and she had to do her best to right her wrongs, though doing so would be nigh impossible.

Her feet were tired from the amount of running she'd done, but she wouldn't stop until she'd found them.

Her breath was hard, and ragged, and she had a massive stitch in her side, but she kept on repeating "Got to make it better, got to make it better!"

She sped around a tree and felt her foot catch on something. She flew through the air for a second, before crashing in a heap. She turned, and shined her torch at what she'd tripped on. It was a bag, the same kind of bag they'd been given at the start of the game.

"Oh fuck," Emma whispered, terrified. She'd found someone, and she could tell it wasn't Rachael or Chloe.

Emma heard a clicking noise from behind her. She stood and turned, facing who it was. She raised a hand in protest, tears suddenly dropping from her eyes.

"Please, no! I HAVE TO MAKE IT RIG-" Her last word was cut off as the gun went off.

The bullet passed through her raised hand, taking off her pinkie and ring finger and annihilating her palm in the process, before colliding with her nose. The bone splintered and ricocheted backwards, wiping out her brain before the bullet even reached it. Her head snapped back, and her body crumpled as it suddenly became nothing but dead weight.

Girl #19- Emma, dead. 29 Remaining.

Boy #20, Dan, stood over her, amazed at what he'd done. He'd done it again. Another one was down because of him. Again, the condition of the body didn't bother him at all, even though Emma no had no back to her skull and also suffered from a huge hole where her nose should have been.

Bending down, Dan picked up her sawn-off and smiled.

…_Yet another handy weapon for me to take. _

His mind now bubbling in ecstatic happiness, he bounded off, now a bit more confident of his own abilities. It had been so easy. He'd barely even heard Emma coming, but all it had taken was one little pull of a trigger and another one bit the dust. It was too easy. Confident now in his own abilities, Dan bounded off into the darkness.

As he left, he pondered aloud for a moment, "I wonder what her last thought was…I bet it was 'oh shit, that fuckin' nerd got me'. Typical!" He laughed, and was gone.

What he didn't know was that Emma never even realised who it was. In fact, her own mortality never really came into her last thought at all.

It was just a simple, internal repeat of her last words…

_I have to make it right_

29 Remain


End file.
